A Place to Stay
by It'sNotEasyBeingQueen
Summary: Kurt is a blogger who has reserved a room at a hotel for Fashion Week - a hotel which just happens to be managed by the charming Blaine Anderson. Circumstances force them into each other's lives for the week in a way neither of them expected. What exactly will happen when Blaine gives Kurt a place to stay? [Characters also incl. Sam, Rachel, Sebastian, Blaine's dad, Isabelle]
1. Chapter 1

**A Place to Stay**

 _A/N: Welcome to my latest story! The story is complete at nine chapters (unless I get inspired to do an epilogue) and is a little over 28,000 words long, in case you're wondering what you're getting yourself into. I plan to post twice a week – I lack the patience to post any slower than that. I have no beta for this, so there is no one to blame but me for any errors or areas that are lacking. So, as Elphaba once said, it's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap…_

Chapter One

The day was not going well for Kurt Hummel.

He had received an unbelievable break – he was being allowed press access to New York's Fashion Week. He wasn't sure exactly how Isabelle had arranged it. After all, he was only a blogger for while working as her assistant. The other press members were full-fledged fashion writers for some of the most prestigious media outlets in the world. However, his fairy godmother had, once again, waved her magic wand and made this amazing dream come true.

Well, almost true. He'd have to get there first.

Naturally, today was the day his train broke down. Two hours he sat in that subway car cursing his luck. He'd been running late all day, and had missed the train he was supposed to be on, putting him on this over-crowded and delayed sardine can.

He finally exited the subway in Midtown and fought his way through the throngs of residents and tourists that always seemed to clog the area. His journey was hampered further by the suitcase he was wheeling behind him and the garment bag slung over his shoulder. "Just a couple more blocks to the hotel," he thought, trying to give himself a little encouragement.

Soon enough, he found himself in front of the elegant Dalton Hotel, a smallish boutique hotel tucked away about two blocks from Times Square. Despite his frayed nerves, he managed a smile and a "Thank you" for the doorman who greeted him as he held the door open for Kurt to pass. The lobby was moderately sized but tastefully appointed, with just the right amount of marble and dark wood to give a classic air without being stuffy or old-fashioned. With a quick glance around, he located the front desk and plodded his way across the lobby as if he were reaching the finish line of a marathon. Finally releasing the handle of his suitcase and carefully draping the garment bag over the top, he greeted the desk clerk, gave his name, and stated that he was checking in. The young woman tapped a few keys on her computer, furrowing her brow slightly. She tapped a few more times and said, without looking up, "I'm sorry, sir, we do not seem to have any availability for you tonight."

Kurt paused as he stared at her. She looked up in time to hear his response, "You what, now?"

"I'm afraid we are all booked, and we do not have a room for you," she replied, her level tone clearly the result of training. She was about to continue when Kurt cut her off quickly.

"No, no, no. I have a reservation. I made it _three_ months ago. I have my confirmation e-mail right here," he began, whipping his cell phone out of his pocket, pulling up the message and turning the screen toward the clerk.

"Yes, sir, I realize that. It's just that we're oversold for this week. It's a common practice in the hotel industry, but with it being Fashion Week, we have a higher than usual arrival rate," the clerk did not fail to notice the increased intensity of Kurt's death glare when she mentioned Fashion Week. Before he could voice his anger, however, she hurried on. "However, we are fully prepared to offer you comparable lodgings at another location. We're not a chain, but we have arrangements with a few other local hotels for just such an occasion."

"Swell," was all Kurt was able to get out through clenched teeth. He just needed to keep his calm and find out the name of the other hotel, walk over there, check in, and put this disaster of a day behind him. "Which hotel?" he asked.

"Let's see," she said, tapping away again, "Ah, yes. We actually have two locations that can accommodate you, both conveniently near the airport," she rushed through the last part of that sentence, knowing that her guest probably would not like it very much. She was right.

"The airport?" Kurt asked, his voice rising slightly, both in volume and pitch. "Listen," he paused as his eyes flicked to the clerk's nametag, "…Tina," he said as though her name were another four-letter word. "I need to be in Midtown. If I wanted a hotel out of the city, I would have stayed at my apartment in Brooklyn. I don't have time to run back and forth to a hotel in Queens every day."

"Um, no, sir," Tina hesitantly replied. "When I said by the airport, I meant, um, Newark?" It wasn't supposed to be a question, but she had grown quite intimidated by the man who was clearly close to losing it - and lose it, he did. Everyone in the lobby stopped and looked at the desk when they heard a loud, high pitched voice screech, " _New Jersey_?!"

xoxoxo

Blaine Anderson was taking a long-overdue break. It had been a crazy day at the hotel, per usual. They were booked solid due to Fashion Week, along with the other million things going on in the city. He'd just come back from his favorite coffee shop around the corner and was returning to work for a few more hours before calling it a night.

"Good evening, Mr. Anderson," the doorman greeted him, opening the door and tipping his hat.

"Hey there, Brad," Blaine replied, stopping to give the man a quick pat on the shoulder. "And it's Blaine, remember. Mr. Anderson is my dad," he said with a wink.

"Yes, of course, sir," Brad said with a grin, earning a chuckle from his boss as he passed through the entryway.

Blaine loved this hotel. He had worked or stayed at all of the family's properties across the country, and even a few overseas, but none compared to this one. It had the old-world charm of the classic hotel it once was, seamlessly mixed with the modern elegance and convenience introduced by the Anderson family when they'd acquired and refurbished it a decade ago. Blaine had just been a teenager then, dreaming of living in New York, albeit in very different circumstances, while growing up and attending school in an upscale suburb in Ohio. Now, here he was, ensconced in the family business, and somehow living in the city anyway. As he gazed around the lobby, his reverie was broken by what appeared to be a very unhappy guest at the front desk. The clerk was looking sheepishly at the man and saying something. As Blaine approached, he nearly dropped his medium drip as the guest cried out, " _New Jersey_!?"

Poor Tina looked like she was about to cry. Blaine couldn't have that, and he also couldn't have a guest this distraught. Clearly, an intervention was needed. He crossed the lobby quickly and stopped at the desk next to the man, close enough to make his presence known, but not so close as to startle him.

"Excuse me," he interrupted, his voice friendly and soft. Step one was to inject some calm into the situation. He looked at Tina first, saying, "can I help with something here?" He turned his head toward the man at the desk as he finished his sentence, and the last word almost caught in his throat. The man before him was drop-dead gorgeous. He was a couple of inches taller than Blaine, and appeared even taller due to his high-swept hair. Flawless, fair skin was offset by startling blue eyes – eyes that were currently filled with anger, frustration, and seemed to be slightly glassy, as if the man were near to tears.

All of this observation occurred within a second or two, as Blaine quickly regained his composure. He smiled at Kurt and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson. And you are?"

Unfortunately, his calm, friendly demeanor had not reached Kurt yet. "Well, Blaine Anderson," he said, his voice dripping with frustration and disdain, "I am a person with a reservation at this hotel who should be in a room right now watching crappy hotel cable, but Tina over here," he punctuated her name with a quick jerk of his thumb, "has informed me that apparently, it is your practice to overbook your hotel and then send poor saps like me over the Hudson River to Jersey instead. So, if you want to help with something, how about finding me the room that I booked or at least finding me something in fricking Midtown instead of sending me out of the state?" Kurt finished and gave Blaine the death glare he had been giving to Tina.

"I am so sorry about this, Mister…" Blaine trailed off, waiting for Kurt to supply his name. "Kurt Hummel," Kurt provided tersely.

"Yes, Mr. Hummel. I am sure we can find a solution for you." Blaine remained upbeat and friendly, both his natural charm and his training serving him well. Turning to the clerk, he continued, "Tina, what are our options with our sister hotels?"

Tina, who was grateful for the intervention, informed Blaine that all of the hotels in the city were booked, and that the only options they had were in outlying areas.

"Look," Kurt said, quieter than before. He remained livid, but the strain of the day was wearing him out, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold it together. "I am working Fashion Week. I need to be in town near all of the venues, as I'll be attending different events throughout the day and writing about them in between. That's why I rented a room in the first place. I wasn't going to have time to commute from my apartment in Bushwick. Newark isn't going to work for me. So if you people can't help me, I'm just going to have to go find a room someplace else nearby and then go on every website known to man and give this place the worst review since the Bates Motel."

He grabbed his luggage and turned toward the front doors when he felt a firm hand on his arm as Blaine said, "Wait." Kurt turned and really saw Blaine for the first time. He'd been so caught up in his ranting before that he hadn't paid attention to how stunning he was. He had dark, wavy hair which was styled back with gel like an old-school movie star. His thick, triangular brows were perched above sparkling eyes, the color of which Kurt couldn't entirely be sure, but if he had to pick a word, golden would suffice. He was wearing an impeccably-tailored suit, and Kurt's knowledge of fashion told him that it cost more than he brought home in a month.

Blaine removed his hand, almost looking embarrassed at the contact. "I'm afraid you won't find anything in this area right now," he said apologetically. "Everything is booked solid. If you did find a vacancy, the rate will likely be three times the average due to the scarcity of rooms and booking at the last minute."

Kurt stared at Blaine for a long moment, the words sinking in as he then looked to Tina and back at Blaine again. He didn't know how this all could have gone so wrong. It was the most important week of his life, and his whole plan was ruined. He needed to be in town, and there was no way he could afford to pay triple what he was paying here. He'd been saving for six months (yes, he had optimistically started saving three months before he even got the assignment) to afford this place. He leaned his elbows on the hotel desk, closing his eyes and lowering his head into his hands. "Oh, god," he muttered, too quiet for Tina to hear, but just loud enough that Blaine caught it, "what am I going to do?"

xoxoxo

Blaine knew he had to come up with something for Kurt. He couldn't just send him off to Jersey or back to Bushwick (though he couldn't decide which was worse, honestly). As he pondered what to do, a noise from behind him notified him that another guest was waiting to talk to someone at the desk. He had to take Kurt somewhere else while he worked on a solution.

"Mr. Hummel?" he prompted quietly, angling his head down to catch Kurt's eye. "I am sure we can come up with an answer for you, but I am afraid we need to allow Tina to assist someone else in the meantime. Would you follow me to my office?"

Kurt took a deep breath. At this point, he was willing to ask if he could _sleep_ in Blaine's office, or the lobby, or the janitor's closet, for that matter, so he didn't need much convincing to follow as Blaine stepped behind the desk and passed through a door behind Tina. They went through a small hallway and entered a room on the right, Blaine shutting the door behind them. He offered Kurt a seat, which he took, and coffee, which he declined. Blaine set his own coffee down on the desk (he'd just remembered to grab it from the front desk before walking Kurt back) and sat in the other visitor chair next to Kurt. He was stalling. For some reason, he didn't want to see Kurt walk out of the hotel, never to be seen again. An idea had come to him in the lobby, but he'd been trying to dismiss it as crazy, which it definitely was. No other options were presenting themselves, however.

"I'm sorry for yelling out there," Kurt's soft voice almost startled Blaine as it was so unexpected. "I really didn't mean to make a scene. I've just had the most supremely awful day and this is a huge deal for me but I don't know how I'm going to pull this off if I have to commute and…"

He stopped as Blaine leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Everyone gets stressed, especially in this town, right?" he said with a smile. He held Kurt's gaze for a moment, mesmerized by the eyes that had been bright blue a moment ago with anger but which were more of a soft grey now.

Kurt, for his part, was confused. He should still be livid. This was the most important week of his life and this stupid hotel issue was ruining everything. He had done everything right, and was getting the short end of the stick, big time. However, with Blaine leaning toward him, soft hazel eyes looking into his, and a hand ever so lightly touching his arm, he found himself feeling calm – almost peaceful, even. He shook himself out of it quickly, though, and Blaine seemed to do the same, removing his hand and sitting back upright again.

"So," Blaine said, clearing his throat, embarrassed once again at finding himself touching a complete stranger, "time to problem-solve." Kurt quirked an eyebrow at the choice of phrase. "The problem is that you need a place to stay, and there aren't any rooms available."

"Thank you for captioning my misery," Kurt deadpanned. "I might have forgotten if you hadn't reminded me." Apparently, the inner peace had been short-lived. He was back to being stressed, and a stressed Kurt was a snarky Kurt.

"Right, sorry," Blaine apologized. He was better at his job than this. He'd been running this hotel almost single-handedly for a year. He knew how to handle guest service issues. He just needed to pull it together and come up with a good solution.

However, Kurt apparently wasn't going to give Blaine that kind of time. Rising abruptly from his chair, he began to gather his things. "Look, I really don't have time for this. If you can't give me a room here, I am just going to go back home and see what else I can come up with. Maybe I can sleep on a cot at the office a couple of nights or something. In any event, sitting here with you isn't going to change the fact that whatever the reason, the room I booked isn't available, and I've got to make other arrangements. It sucks, and I'm really not happy with your hotel, but," he hesitated, finally taking a breath, "you've been very kind, and I appreciate your attempt to help." He held out his hand to Blaine, remembering his manners. "It was nice to meet you," he said as Blaine reached out to accept the gesture.

Blaine couldn't believe what came out of his mouth next. Kurt released his hand, grabbed his suitcase and turned toward the door just in time to hear Blaine say, "You can stay here."

Confused, Kurt turned back around to find that Blaine had risen from his chair. "What do you mean, I can stay here? The place is booked, remember?"

"You can stay here," Blaine repeated, then clarified the statement by adding, "…with me."

xoxoxo

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Blaine found himself holding his breath, waiting for Kurt's response and also completely panicking at the words which had just come out of his mouth. There was no way he would invite a stranger to stay with him, and yet, that was what he did.

Kurt, who prided himself on always having something to say, was speechless. As he stared at Blaine for a few seconds – seconds that felt like hours while an inordinately loud desk clock ticked away – fought to overcome his stunned silence. Unfortunately, the most coherent thing he could manage to say was, "Wait, what?"

Blaine ignored the very reasonable voice in his head that told him this was his opportunity to rescind his offer. That voice's counterpart urged him on, instead. "You can stay with me, in my apartment."

Kurt's eyes widened as Blaine realized how his offer sounded. "No, no," he rushed on. "I don't mean that how it sounded. I mean, yes, I meant that you can stay with me, and technically it is my apartment, but it's here at The Dalton, just upstairs." He could feel himself blushing as he rambled on, and thought he noticed a fleeting smirk on Kurt's face.

"You live in a hotel?" Kurt asked, mentally slapping himself and thinking, _that's your first question?_

"Um, yeah," Blaine replied, his hand subconsciously going to the back of his neck. Work Blaine was gone and regular old Blaine Anderson had taken over. "On the top floor."

Again, silence fell between them. Blaine took a breath and a step towards Kurt. "There's plenty of room, and I'm really not there all that much. I'd give you your own keycard, and you could come and go as needed. No funny business, I promise."

Regarding him with a mixture of suspicion and interest, Kurt asked, "Do you make it a habit to ask all of your stranded guests to stay with you? That doesn't seem very smart. I could be a serial killer, you know."

"You don't look like a serial killer," Blaine said with mock seriousness.

Kurt leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes, and whispered, "We never do."

That earned a hearty laugh from Blaine, making his hazel eyes sparkle in a way that Kurt did not miss. After another slightly awkward moment, he asked, "So, what do you say?"

Kurt considered his options. Logic told him to graciously decline and just make the crazy commute work with his schedule. There was no way he should be taking up a stranger's offer to basically live with him for a week. It was ridiculous. It was ludicrous. There was no way he was going to do it. Naturally, then, when he opened his mouth, a single word slipped out. "Okay."

 _A/N: One down, eight to go. I hope you enjoyed it, and will come back for the rest. Please drop me a note to let me know your thoughts! I would be remiss if I did not give thanks to HKVoyage and GleefulDarrenCrissFan for listening to me whine incessantly about my writer's block and for encouraging me to move forward. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart!_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 _A/N: Hello again! Thanks so much to those of you who took the time to review, favorite, and/or follow this story. Let's see what happens next…_

The ride up the private elevator was quick. And silent. Neither man knew exactly what to say as they began to separately realize what they'd agreed to do. Blaine was panicking because he had just invited a complete stranger to stay in his home – an extraordinarily breathtaking stranger who made his insides quiver in a way they hadn't in a long time – but a stranger, nonetheless. This was not like Blaine at all, especially not when it came to the management of the Dalton. He knew he was young for the role, and had taken great pains to establish himself as a respectable and successful member of the Anderson family. Socially speaking, he never even brought his dates back to his apartment, and here he was on the elevator with someone he'd known exactly fifteen minutes.

Kurt was no less anxious than the man standing beside him. As if the upcoming week wasn't going to be stressful enough, he had now accepted the offer of some random guy to stay at his place for the week. He was sure he was going to end up on an episode of Dateline for this. But wait, that wasn't exactly true. Despite the unusual chain of events over the past few moments, and the fact that he was currently headed to a stranger's apartment, he had no actual fear of the man. Kurt had a fairly good sense of when people meant him harm – heaven knew he had enough experience with such types – but he felt none of that from Blaine. He hoped he was right.

Their separate but similar musings were interrupted by the ding of the elevator as it came to a stop on the 23rd floor. The doors opened and Kurt followed Blaine out into a small vestibule. Kurt had expected a long hallway with multiple doors – this was a hotel, after all. But instead, there was a single door before them. Blaine swiped his keycard and reached for the handle. He pushed the door and held it open, turning to Kurt with a smile. "After you," he said with a deferential wave of his free hand towards the entrance.

Kurt walked past Blaine, still rolling his suitcase behind him, and took a look around the space he would call home for the next week. He had expected a hotel suite of sorts, but nothing like this. The apartment wasn't just _on_ the top floor, it comprised the _entire_ top floor of the building.

xoxoxo

"Holy…" Kurt muttered under his breath. Blaine smirked at the exclamation but didn't comment on it. He shut the door and hung Kurt's garment bag (which he had insisted on carrying) on the coat rack near the door.

Kurt looked around the apartment in awe. He was in the middle of a foyer of sorts that flowed outwards into the open-concept living area: a large kitchen to the right with an island/breakfast bar that overlooked a dining area, and to the left was a living room with overstuffed, comfortable-looking chairs and a sofa that still managed to look sleek and sophisticated, arranged into a formation that was clearly meant to encourage conversation, though a large wall-mounted television and sound system were present, as well. High ceilings accentuated the openness of the room. However, Kurt found his eyes drawn to the space directly across from him – past the simple but elegant dining table, large French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the city. Being in the middle of Midtown, surrounded by buildings, it wasn't like there was a view of the Hudson River, but being 23 floors up offered a decent vista across the urban jungle. Kurt couldn't wait to see the view at night with all of the lights stretched out before him.

His attention was drawn from the window by the sound of Blaine's footsteps as he stepped around to his right. "Can I give you the tour?" he asked as he walked past him and farther into the apartment.

"Sure," Kurt replied, following him and trying not to sound as stunned as he was. He didn't want to come across as some kind of bumpkin. He worked for Vogue, for heaven's sake. A sudden thought struck him and made him stop after only a few steps. "Wait," he called.

The other man turned around to face him. "Yes?"

"I, um," Kurt fumbled for his words, feeling a bit embarrassed before just rushing on. "Look, I just reserved a simple guest room. I'm sure I can't afford to pay my share of whatever this place costs."

Blaine laughed lightly, then caught himself when he realized Kurt had taken his reaction the wrong way. "No, no, please," he offered, returning to Kurt and laying a hand on his arm. "You've misunderstood me. This is my home, not a hotel room. You are staying here as my personal guest because of the terrible error with your room. You don't owe me a thing."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but Blaine simply put up a hand. "Truly…please. My family owns this hotel, including this apartment." He looked a little sheepish before adding, "It's' not like I'm paying rent."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Kurt let out a breath of resignation. "You're sure," he said, checking one final time.

Blaine responded with a smile and a nod. "Come on. I'll show you around."

Blaine walked him around the common areas that Kurt had seen from the entryway before showing him to the guest room that would be his for the week. Blaine told him there were three bedrooms altogether, each with its own bathroom. Kurt was grateful that he would be spared the potentially mortifying experience of sharing a bathroom with a stranger.

Before Blaine could continue, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. "Excuse me," he said politely, slipping the phone from his jacket and frowning at the text message on the screen. "I'm sorry, I need to go downstairs and deal with something. I hate to run out, but…" he hesitated, not knowing how to finish the sentence and wondering why he was trying to explain himself to Kurt in the first place. It wasn't like he was a friend who had come to visit Blaine. He was just here because he needed a place to stay. Fortunately, Kurt's quick response saved him.

"No, that's fine, of course. I've taken enough of your time already. I'm sure you've got plenty to do, running this hotel and all," he said with a kind smile.

"Yes, right," Blaine said. He exited the guest bedroom but kept talking, so Kurt followed. "So, I'll probably be back in an hour or so," he said, checking his watch, "I just have a few things to do and I was going to end my day around then anyway." Reaching the front door, he turned. "Do you like pasta?" he asked.

Kurt blinked in surprise before answering, "Um, yes. Yes, I do."

"Excellent," Blaine said with a smile. "Like I said, give me an hour, and I'll be back up. I have a great pasta recipe that goes together pretty quickly. It's my go-to meal on tough days, and it seems like you could use it."

"Blaine," Kurt said, "you really don't have to do that."

Blaine smiled inwardly – it was the first time Kurt had addressed him solely by his first name. It was a little disconcerting that he felt a twinge at hearing Kurt say his name like that, but he took the opportunity to respond in kind. "Kurt, I want to. I need to eat; you need to eat. No big deal, okay?"

With a deep breath in and out, Kurt relented. "Okay."

"Great. Make yourself at home. Here," Blaine reached into his pocket and took out his card key, handing it to Kurt. "I'll get another one from security, but this way you can come and go as you please. See you in an hour."

With that, he was gone. Kurt stood in the foyer, keycard in hand, staring at the door.

xoxoxo

"How long has he been here?" Blaine asked as he strode quickly through the door to the security office. He'd come through from the service side of the building, purposely avoiding the public lobby. The text he had received while talking to Kurt was from Sam, his best friend and head of security, notifying him that his father had arrived. Blaine had quickly responded while waiting for the elevator that he was on his way down and would need an extra keycard since Kurt would be staying with him for the week.

"Five minutes, tops." Sam answered, quickly following up with an incredulous, "Dude, are you insane? You're letting some weirdo live in your apartment for a week?"

Running a hand across his face, Blaine sighed. "Sam, he's not a weirdo. He's a writer working Fashion Week. I'll tell you later how it all happened. Now can I just get a duplicate key card, please, and then I can go deal with my father?" It did not escape Blaine that he was begging an employee to do his job, but this was Sam, whom he had known since he was a teenager, and who was more like a brother to him than his own flesh and blood, so the whole employer/employee thing had gone out the window long ago.

"I don't know, Blaine, this all seems pretty funky to me," Sam said, shaking his head and pulling a blank key card out of a drawer. He walked over to a computer and began typing in some information before swiping the card through a machine connected at the side. Handing the card over, he continued, "this just isn't like you at all. You don't bring random guys to your apartment. Hell, you dated that Jeremiah dude for like a month and he never saw the inside of your place. It's like your Fortress of Solitude, man."

Blaine smiled at his friend's ability to work superheroes into nearly every conversation. "Fortress of Solitude, eh?" he joked. "Guess that makes me Superman. Cool."

"Don't change the subject," Sam said seriously. "Look, I get that this guy was in a tight spot, but you give him a couple hundred bucks and send him on his way. You don't take him home and…wait a minute," Sam looked at Blaine harder, making the shorter man squirm a little and look away nervously, knowing where this was going.

"Oh, my god," Sam exclaimed. "You like him!" he shoved Blaine on the shoulder playfully.

"Sam!" Blaine whined, instantly hating himself for the tone. "I do _not_ like him. I just met him. He seems like a good person, and he needed help. Help that I was able to offer. I've got plenty of room up there, and there was no place else for him to go." Blaine could feel himself flushing, and he started to move quickly to the exit to get away from Sam's teasing. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go deal with dear old Dad," Blaine hesitated for a moment and turned back to Sam. "Um, Sam?" The other man looked up in reply. "You didn't, uh, you didn't say anything to my father about Kurt, did you?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What am I, new? Of course not," he answered, noticing how Blaine let out a tiny breath of relief.

"Oh, okay," Blaine continued, trying to sound nonchalant, but flushing slightly. Sam was all too well aware of the relationship between Blaine and his father, and hated to see his friend so troubled by it. "After I get rid of him, I'm going to call it a night. Talk to you tomorrow," Blaine said, turning back towards the door that led to the lobby.

"See ya, Blaine," Sam called out. Just as Blaine reached for the door knob, Sam added, "Use protection, buddy!" Blaine rolled his eyes, huffed out a frustrated breath, and opened the door.

xoxoxo

Derrick Anderson stood behind the front desk, scrolling through information on one of the computers and looking imposing, as usual. He was taller than Blaine, with the same dark hair, but showing some gray at the temples. Most of Blaine's features had come from his mother – his curls, his eye color, his height (thanks, mom, he thought) – as had much of his personality. Where Blaine was open and friendly, his father was quiet, reserved, and stern. Blaine had often wondered how his parents had ever gotten together; he wondered less why they had divorced when Blaine was a teenager. For a time he'd blamed himself, as their tenuous marriage seemed to lose its last bit of hope shortly after Blaine had come out, but his mother had assured him that the split had been a long time coming.

Blaine's friends had questioned his decision to be in the family business – to work for the man who had been distant when Blaine was a child and who had never really come to terms with Blaine's sexuality. He hadn't really intended to do it. Growing up, his love had been split between performing and the hotel business to which he was being groomed. He wanted to hate his father's business, but he just couldn't. His plan had been to get his degree and then make his way on his own, away from the Anderson empire. He knew it would probably put the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with his father, but at least he'd be out from under his thumb.

Then his father bought The Dalton. Named for Blaine's school (which was, of course, also his father's alma mater), it was exactly the type of hotel Blaine wanted to run. All through college, he dreamed of having a hotel like it as his own, and upon graduation, due in no small part to the lobbying by his mother (described as "the nagging of my ex-wife" by his father), Blaine had been placed at the Dalton by his father. He'd been allowed to direct the renovation of the penthouse as his own personal residence, and after a few years of doing a variety of jobs, he'd been put in charge as manager of the hotel.

Blaine wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what his father was doing. By acquiring The Dalton and putting Blaine in charge, his father felt like he could keep an eye on him. And by keep an eye on him, he meant keep him from embarrassing him and soiling the Anderson name by pursuing his "lifestyle," as Derrick called it. He couldn't have a son of his running around New York with another man. What would people think? So, he made a little deal with Blaine: The Dalton for complete discretion.

Blaine knew the deal was reprehensible. However, he knew something that his father didn't: Blaine had given up on having a relationship anyway. He'd been burned by his last real boyfriend his senior year in college, and had basically sworn off dating. Since one-night stands and hook-ups weren't his thing, he had pretty much resigned himself to be alone for the foreseeable future. Sure, he had dated a couple of guys here and there (such as Jeremiah, as Sam had just reminded him), but he never really found anyone who made him want to take it past a few dates, and the relationships had quickly fizzled out. So, while his father thought he was making some big sacrifice to appease him, Blaine was just doing what he was going to do anyway, and getting the job of his dreams in the process. He chose not to think of it any other way, especially as it related to a certain stunning man who was currently upstairs in his apartment.

The desk could accommodate two clerks to handle guests, and while Derrick occupied one place, at the other station sat a very edgy-looking Tina. Blaine caught her eye as he walked in from the back offices and gave her a quick wink of reassurance. Poor girl, she'd had quite a day, first with the whole Kurt situation and now having the boss' father parked next to her. Blaine made a mental note to try to make it up to her, maybe by giving her an extra afternoon off or something. Lord knows she'd need it after today.

Blaine crossed behind the desk and walked over to his father. "Father," he greeted him in a stiff, formal tone.

"Blaine," his father returned curtly, not looking up from the screen.

"You didn't say you were coming," Blaine said after a few moments of tense silence.

Derrick finally turned to face his son, arching an eyebrow and giving him a quick once-over before responding, "Do I need permission to visit my own property?"

Blaine barely kept from rolling his eyes as he let out a small sigh. "No, Father, you don't, but you usually do let me know."

"Well, I was in town for a couple of meetings and thought I would stop in to check on things. It appears you are full today. That's something, at least."

Blaine knew it was as close to a compliment as he was likely to get. "Yes, we're at full capacity all week. It's Fashion Week, so there are a lot of people in town for that. Actually, we don't even have a suite for you today – if I'd known you were coming, I could have reserved it for you." Blaine hated having his father in the building, and was internally thrilled that he had no room for him.

His father waved him off. "No, no. I'll be staying at the penthouse uptown. I really don't care for being here in Midtown with all the tourists," he said with a sneer. "I don't know why you like it here."

Blaine drew on his acting skills from his college drama class and plastered on a broad smile. "I guess it's good that I manage The Dalton and you don't, then."

His father stared at him for a minute, then looked back towards the computer. "Well, at least you're managing to keep the occupancy up, though you could work on making it a bit more upscale. You could draw better clientele and keep out some of the rabble."

Blaine knew better than to argue. His father was just trying to bait him. Honestly, he wondered sometimes why his father even bothered. Years of this dance had taught him, however, to not engage in a verbal sparring contest. The shorter he kept this conversation, the sooner his father would leave and head back to the west coast where he spent more of his time.

They exchanged a few more comments, and then Derrick took his leave, getting back in his chauffer-driven Towncar and heading uptown to the aforementioned penthouse. Blaine, Tina, and, it seemed, the building itself, let out a collective sigh once the car had pulled away. Blaine felt a light hand on his shoulder and looked over to smile at Tina. "Good job, boss," she said quietly.

"Yes, Tina," he said, patting her hand in acknowledgement. "We all live to fight another day."

xoxoxo

 _Being alone in a stranger's home is weird_ , Kurt thought for the hundredth time. Since Blaine's departure, he had unpacked his things, hanging some items in the generously-sized closet and putting the rest away in the bureau drawers. He'd checked his e-mails, double-checked his schedule for the next day to make sure no changes had occurred, and selected his outfit for tomorrow. He then sat on the edge of the bed fidgeting, not really knowing what to do with himself. He wanted to look around the apartment, but didn't feel right doing that with Blaine away. After a few more minutes, he said aloud, "Well, this is ridiculous." Rising from the bed, he walked down the short hallway to the living area and over to the kitchen. He opened the fridge in search of a bottle of water, taking a moment to look at the contents of the very well-stocked shelves. _For a bachelor, he keeps some decent food on hand_ , Kurt thought, then corrected himself. How did he know Blaine was a bachelor? The idea made him a little depressed. Surely, a handsome, successful man like Blaine had someone in his life.

With a sigh, Kurt grabbed a bottle of water, closed the door, and began looking for a glass. As he opened one of the cabinets, he heard the click of the front door being unlocked and Blaine stepped into the apartment. He happened to glance towards the kitchen first, smiling and greeting Kurt, who felt guilty because his hand was still on an open cabinet door. "Hi," he replied a little too quickly, "I wasn't snooping, honest, I was just looking for a glass," he said, holding up the bottle of water.

Blaine laughed, and Kurt was sure his knees had melted at the sound. "It's okay, Kurt, really," Blaine said, crossing from the entryway and into the kitchen, slipping his suit jacket off and draping it over one of the chairs he passed along the way. "I meant it when I told you to make yourself at home." He walked up in front of Kurt, standing very close and looking him directly in the eye. Without breaking eye contact, he reached up with his right hand and opened the cabinet door next to the one where Kurt had been looking. "They're in here," he said with a nod toward the cabinet full of glasses. Kurt blushed a little (a habit he despised but could not control) and took a glass, thanking Blaine and stepping over to the island to pour the water – and to give him a moment to take control of his heartbeat and his countenance. Blaine grinned again, taking a glass for himself and setting it next to Kurt's. "Hit me," he joked, making Kurt laugh as he poured half of the bottle into his own glass and half into Blaine's.

"Cheers," Kurt offered, holding his glass out. Blaine returned the toast, clinking the two glasses together, and taking a sip. "So," Kurt said, regaining his composure, "I believe I was promised pasta?"

xoxoxo

The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. Blaine whipped up his pasta dish while Kurt, after being denied the opportunity to assist, sat on one of the tall stools at the island and kept him company. Blaine peppered Kurt with questions about his job and Fashion Week, interjecting a few knowledgeable comments here and there.

Once dinner was over and the dishes were cleared and cleaned, Kurt excused himself for the evening, claiming he had some additional prep work to do before starting his assignment the next day. Blaine wished him a good evening, and Kurt wasn't sure if he noted a little disappointment in Blaine's tone, though his face showed no signs of it. Honestly, Kurt didn't have that much to do, but it had been a very long day, and he just needed some down time to himself. Though he was growing more comfortable in Blaine's company, it was still a bit unsettling being in a stranger's home. As he reached the hallway which led to the bedrooms, he turned back for one final comment. "Blaine?" he said quietly.

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine replied, looking up from the chair in the living room where he'd settled himself with a glass of wine.

"I just wanted to…" Kurt faltered as he tried to choose his words carefully, "I know you didn't have to do what you did, offering me a room here, and it must be terribly inconvenient to have a stranger in your home." Blaine opened his mouth to disagree, but Kurt put up a hand to stop him. "I just wanted to say thank you. There aren't a lot of people who would have done what you did, and I appreciate it very much." He finished with a small but heartfelt smile.

Blaine let out a breath and said, "You are most welcome. Good night, Kurt."

"Good night, Blaine," Kurt answered, then turned and went to his room, closing the door behind him.

Sleeping in a strange bed was always difficult for Kurt. Sleeping in his own bed was sometimes a trial in and of itself. That night, amazingly enough, he fell fast asleep and slept soundly until his alarm woke him. In the room next door, the same could not be said for Blaine, who tossed and turned for over an hour before a fitful sleep overtook him.

 _A/N: Next time, we hit a little speed bump, and Blaine is quick to set the record straight._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 _A/N: Chapter Three: in which we employ the classic literary device of the silly misunderstanding that causes more confusion than it really should. I may have stolen the silly misunderstanding concept from Shakespearean comedies and every episode of "Three's Company."_

The next morning found Kurt entering the kitchen to discover fresh coffee in the coffee pot and a selection of bagels on the counter. A note was next to the bagels, which read, " _Good morning, Kurt. In case you come out for breakfast while I'm still getting ready, help yourself. There is also a variety of things in the fridge and cereal in the cupboard – I wasn't sure what you'd like. B._ " Kurt shook his head in disbelief. Seriously the host with the most, he decided, popping a bagel in the toaster and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Kurt pulled out his laptop and began checking some last-minute details. He heard his cell phone buzzing from the countertop where he'd placed it. Without looking, he picked it up and answered, "Hello?"

"Hey there, Killer, what's with the voice? You have a rough night last night or something?" a man's voice with a decidedly snarky tone that Kurt did not recognize asked. Confused, Kurt pulled the phone from his ear to see the caller ID screen showing a picture of what appeared to be a teenaged Blaine and a taller, lean boy next to him who was pulling a face while Blaine kissed his cheek. _Oh, god,_ Kurt thought, his eyes going wide. _This isn't my phone_. He glanced over to see that his phone was on the counter on the other side of his laptop. Blaine must have left his out on the counter, too, and Kurt had grabbed the wrong one.

"Helloooo? Killer? You there, Blainey?" he could hear the voice from the receiver. Kurt had some quick talking to do.

"Um, hi. This isn't Blainey – I mean, this isn't Blaine."

"Oh, well hello there. Who is this, then?"

"My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm a, um, friend of Blaine's. I answered his phone by accident."

Kurt heard the voice chuckle, then say, "Ahhh, a _friend_ of Blaine's, eh? Nice friend to be checking his phone for him at eight o'clock in the morning." Kurt didn't like the suggestive tone in the caller's voice, but before he could object, the caller continued. "Well, Kurt Hummel, do me a favor. As soon as Killer is available, tell him Sebastian called. I left my Calvin Kleins there last week, and I'd like him to get them back to me. Normally I don't bother to chase down my boxers when I leave them behind, but I kind of like those, ya know?"

Kurt could feel the heat rise in his face and an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach at the mention of Sebastian's underwear. He guessed that answered the question about the boyfriend. "Sure," Kurt said, summoning his composure. Boyfriend of Blaine's or not, Kurt didn't like this guy's attitude, and he would be damned if he would let Sebastian know he'd made Kurt uncomfortable. "I'll be sure to give him the message," he said in a sickeningly-sweet yet chilly tone.

"What message?" Blaine's voice came from behind Kurt, startling him and nearly making him drop the phone. He spun around on the stool to find Blaine standing about two feet behind him, dressed for work except for his shoes, which explained how Kurt didn't hear him coming. With a rush of panic, all Kurt could think about was getting out as quickly as possible.

"On second thought," he said hastily into the receiver, "you can tell him yourself. Here," he said to Blaine, shoving the phone at him. "I answered yours by mistake." Once Blaine took the phone, Kurt was off the stool like a shot, quickly jamming his laptop into his bag, grabbing his phone, and making a break for the door while muttering something slightly incoherent that came out, "I'mlategottarunthanksforthebagelbye." He vaguely heard Blaine say a bewildered, "Bye," followed by a greeting into his phone of, "Hello? Oh, hey, Bas," before he closed the door behind him.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Kurt said under his breath on the ride down the elevator. "Just because a guy is nice to you doesn't mean he's interested. Of course he's got a boyfriend, or fiancé, or whatever. _Sebastian_ ," he practically spat the name out. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, and then reopened them as the elevator car came to a stop on the first floor. "Get it together, Hummel," he said as the doors opened. "You've got work to do."

xoxoxo

That day and the next passed quickly for both men. Kurt was busy attending events and writing about them in between. After rushing out the first morning, Kurt had come back to the apartment mid-afternoon to write for his blog and then left again before dinnertime (aka, before Blaine finished work) to cover an evening event. He slipped in quietly afterwards, passing Blaine with a quick greeting before making a beeline to his room to do his evening writing. He was up and out of the apartment before Blaine came out of his room the next morning, with the rest of the day passing the same as the one before. Kurt knew it was silly of him to avoid Blaine, but he needed to focus on his work – at least, that was what he told himself.

Blaine, though busy in his own right with a full hotel, noticed the change in Kurt's demeanor and found it perplexing. That first afternoon and evening, they'd gotten along so well. Then everything suddenly changed at breakfast the next morning, and now he'd barely gotten two words out of Kurt besides "Good morning" and "Good night" per day. He knew Kurt was busy – the whole reason he'd needed to stay in Midtown was because he'd be working so much and wouldn't have time to commute – but that still didn't explain how they'd gone from friendly conversation to barely speaking. The couple of times he'd tried to talk to Kurt when he returned to the apartment at night, Kurt had waved him off lamely and all but run to his room. Blaine couldn't figure it out.

On day three of Fashion Week, when he'd once again missed Kurt leaving in the morning, Blaine walked out to his balcony with his coffee for a few minutes before descending to the office to start the day. He leaned against the railing, looking out at the city and taking in the sounds. He found his mind once again on Kurt and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He knew he'd been flirting with him that first day (he was only human, after all), but he hadn't received any negative signs from Kurt, so he didn't think he'd crossed any lines there. Then the next morning, he'd come out from his room and Kurt had answered the phone…

The phone call. Sebastian.

"Oh, my god," Blaine groaned to himself, running his hand over his eyes. If he was right, then this was nothing but a horrible misunderstanding. He didn't want to assume, but it all made sense. Now he just had to find a way to make Kurt understand without embarrassing him. And he would have to kill Sebastian, too, of course.

xoxoxo

That afternoon, when Kurt returned to the apartment to write, he stopped to get a bottle of water from the fridge and planned to set up shop at the dining table in front of the French doors to the balcony. Unlike the morning and evening sprints from his bedroom to the front door, he allowed himself the luxury of working in the open, airy living areas of the apartment in the afternoon since he knew Blaine wouldn't be around. It really was an amazing, expansive space, and he couldn't help but admire it and hope that he would be successful enough one day to have an apartment like this.

As he closed the refrigerator door, he froze when he heard music. Specifically, he heard someone playing a piano. He looked toward the living room where the sound system was, thinking maybe Blaine had left it on, but the system was dark. Besides that, the music wasn't coming from that area of the apartment. It was from the other side, past the kitchen. Blaine hadn't shown him that portion of the apartment, but he knew that the third bedroom was over there, along with a couple of other rooms, he guessed, based on the size of the space. His heart began to pound as he realized he was not alone in the apartment as he had anticipated. Curiosity overtook anxiety, however, and Kurt slowly walked through the kitchen and down the hallway to find the source of the music.

At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar. Kurt stopped in the doorway and found himself facing a large room with expansive windows overlooking the city on two sides, the room apparently occupying the corner of the building. Blaine was seated at a gorgeous black baby grand piano, playing a gentle melody and looking more relaxed than Kurt had ever seen him. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, but was without his suit jacket. An undone bow tie hung freely from his collar. Kurt lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame, taking in the sight of Blaine's strong profile against the light from the window on the other side. Kurt felt like he should leave, as though he was intruding, but he couldn't make his feet move. The melody seemed slightly familiar, but he couldn't place it until Blaine began to sing.

 _You think I'm pretty without any makeup on  
You think I'm funny when I tell the punchline wrong  
I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down_

 _Before you met me, I was all right  
But things were kind of heavy, you brought me to life  
Now every February, you'll be my Valentine, Valentine_

Kurt was astounded – Blaine was singing a slow, heartfelt version of "Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry. He smirked in disbelief, but remained still so that Blaine wouldn't see him. His voice was amazing, and Kurt didn't want to risk stopping him by interrupting. He didn't know that Blaine had been aware of his presence from the second he'd entered the apartment.

 _Let's go all the way tonight  
No regrets; just love  
We can dance until we die  
You and I will be young forever_

Blaine surprised Kurt by turning and looking him in the eye as he continued with the chorus. While never faltering on the keys or in his voice, he noted that the shade of pink Kurt turned was about the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

 _You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream  
The way you turn me on  
I can't sleep; let's run away and don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back_

 _My heart stops when you look at me  
Just one touch, now baby, I believe  
This is real; let's take a chance and don't ever look back  
Don't ever look back._

He ended there, bowing his head toward the keys as last notes died away. He looked back at Kurt with a grin and said, "Hi," in a voice just above a whisper, as though he feared Kurt would run away.

"Hi," Kurt returned, still looking a bit flustered at having been caught. "That was…that was beautiful, Blaine," he managed to get out before blurting, "What are you doing here?"

Blaine chuckled, "Well, I do sort of live here, you know."

"Yes, I know that," Kurt said with an eye roll, pushing his embarrassment down by calling on his reserve of sass, "but it's the middle of the day, so I thought you'd be, you know, working or something."

"I was," Blaine answered, turning on the piano bench to face Kurt directly, "but I took a little break. I wanted to talk to you," he added. He'd decided that being direct with Kurt was the best thing, as anything else might be misinterpreted. There had been enough misunderstandings between them already.

"Oh?" Kurt asked, eyebrows raised as his heart began to pound again.

Blaine rose from the bench and crossed the room to a small sofa which Kurt hadn't noticed previously. He took a seat and gestured for Kurt to join him. Kurt's urge to flee was strong, but he couldn't think of a reasonable way to give in to it, so he took a deep breath and stepped into the room, settling down on the sofa with Blaine, but being sure to leave some distance between them. Blaine had positioned himself sideways with one foot underneath him and the other on the floor.

Kurt positioned himself on the sofa to face Blaine, as well. He tried really, really hard not to gaze at the small patch of skin revealed where Blaine had undone the top two buttons of his dress shirt. It was not an easy task.

"This is, well, awkward, Kurt," Blaine began, glancing down at the floor and then back up again, "but I want to make sure you're comfortable here."

Kurt's brow furrowed – he didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't that. "Everything is fine, Blaine. The room is perfect, and I really couldn't ask for better accommodations."

Blaine gave a small, tight smile and shifted a bit on the sofa before continuing. "That's great, but that's not really what I meant. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around _me_ , and it seems like I've done something to make you feel that way." Kurt's silence and wide eyes prompted Blaine to continue. "I know this is an unusual arrangement, but I am truly okay with you being here. You've been sort of keeping to your room, and I want you to feel free to use the whole apartment. You won't be in my way, and I promise I'll give you all the space you need."

Kurt didn't know what to say. This was really an odd conversation to be having with someone he'd met only a few days ago, but if he'd learned anything, it was that Blaine was unconventional. Having to say something to stop the honey-colored eyes from boring into his own, Kurt said, "I know, I know. Really, it's fine. I just figured I'd keep to my room to, you know, give you your privacy." Aside from avoiding Blaine out of embarrassment, he'd panicked at the thought of walking in on Blaine and Sebastian together – yet another reason for his mad dashes to and from his room.

 _Privacy_. Upon hearing that word, Blaine's suspicions were confirmed. He took advantage of Kurt opening the door to nip this in the bud once and for all. With a laugh, he responded, "Oh, privacy. Yeah, well, I've been single for a while, and with my pretty non-existent social life, I haven't needed a lot of _privacy._ " He added air quotes around the last word to make sure Kurt knew what he meant.

Before Kurt could think, he stammered out, "O-oh, well, I uh, just thought, you know, when um, the call, and…" he was mentally slapping himself but couldn't make it stop. Thankfully, Blaine took pity on him.

"Oh, you mean Sebastian? Lord, no," Blaine laughed loudly, making Kurt feel a little sheepish. He didn't like being laughed at, but that feeling was quickly being overcome by, what was it – relief?

"You mean, you and he, you aren't a _thing_?" Kurt asked.

"No, no, not at all. Never have been; never will be," Blaine replied, looking Kurt in the eye, hoping to discern what effect this news had on him. "He is an old friend from high school. We were in show choir together, and the group of us are like brothers. We're frighteningly like frat boys sometimes, I admit," he said, shaking his head and smirking at some old memories.

"Well, you can't blame me for thinking otherwise," Kurt replied, not really sure where all this blunt honesty was coming from. Something about sitting in this room, overlooking the city, across a couch from this gorgeous man who had basically just serenaded him in the middle of the afternoon, was lowering his inhibitions and making him speak much more freely than he was accustomed to doing with strangers. "I mean, he opened a conversation with me by asking me to tell you to return his boxers."

Blaine snorted a laugh at that. "Yeah, he's all class," he said sarcastically. "Bas stays with me sometimes when he's in town – he lives overseas – and he's kind of a slob at times. Some of his laundry got mixed in with mine, and I apparently missed returning one of his blessed pairs of shorts. Sorry about that. He has no filter. At all." Blaine shifted on the couch so that he was nearer to Kurt, and Kurt found that he didn't mind.

The apology was lighthearted, but Blaine's voice had softened slightly in a way that indicated he was sincere. He offered Kurt a small grin, which Kurt returned before laughing himself.

"You do lead the interesting life, Mr. Anderson," he quipped. "Sorry for making assumptions. And really, you don't owe me any explanations."

"I know, but I didn't want you thinking you were staying with a letch who has guys leaving underwear around all the time. I _do_ have a reputation to uphold," he said with a tone of mock hauteur before both of them cracked up.

"Anyway," he continued with a sigh, "I should get back to work and you," he reached out and patted Kurt's knee, "most likely have some writing to do, no?"

Kurt felt a rush at the light touch, but endeavored to keep it to himself. "Yes, no more serenades for me. This fashion blog won't write itself."

Both men rose from the couch and Kurt followed Blaine to the door. "Do you play?" Blaine asked, gesturing toward the piano.

"A little, but not nearly as well as you do," he answered truthfully, watching as Blaine blushed at the compliment. "I keep mostly to singing, musically speaking."

"Maybe I'll get to hear you sometime, or we can do a duet," Blaine said with a smile. Before Kurt could answer (though his mouth dropped open a fraction of an inch at Blaine's mention of a duet), Blaine continued, "Ok, I'm off. Are you working an event tonight?" he asked while slipping on the suit jacket which he had left on the coat rack.

"Hmm? Oh, no, actually. I'm done for the day. Just a little writing, and then a free evening for a change."

"Ah, finally, a reprieve! You've been working really hard this week, Kurt. You deserve it." Blaine hesitated, and Kurt sensed he wanted to say something more. He seemed to change his mind, and simply said, "See you later, Kurt," as he slipped out the door, leaving a more than slightly bemused Kurt in his wake.

 _A/N: I know, the apartment just gets better and better, right? There are some amazing places in NYC, and I'd like to believe that a music room with a baby grand and two walls of windows is out there somewhere. So, Blaine's taken the time to establish that he is free, and has turned up the charm a bit for his houseguest. Next time, we see how it pays off._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 _A/N: I think you'll like this one. (Warning for a minor injury that bleeds, but no graphic detail.)_

"Soooo, how's it going?" Rachel asked with a knowing look as she peered over her cup of coffee at Kurt. She'd been surprised to receive a text from him asking to meet her at the café right away. Kurt had told her about his hotel arrangements, and she'd been teasing him by text and e-mail the past couple of days, but they hadn't had time to really talk until now.

"Don't give me that look, Rach," Kurt sighed.

"What look?" she asked innocently, then laughed at the death glare Kurt flashed at her. "Hey, I'm not the one staying in the apartment of a gorgeous hotelier. I'm not the one who sent a text begging for an emergency girl talk summit. I'm not the one…"

"…who can keep her trap closed long enough to let me get a word in edgewise?" Kurt interrupted. Rachel just smiled again, and waved her hand toward Kurt as if to say, "Go ahead."

He took a deep breath and studied his hands wrapped around his coffee cup for a moment. He wasn't sure where to start, but he knew he could be completely honest with his best friend sitting across the table. Still looking down, he began, "I think I'm starting to fall for him." The words came out quietly, and he felt a mixture of relief and terror at saying them out loud. He looked up to see Rachel beaming happily at him.

"That's great, Kurt," she said gently. Rachel knew this was a big deal for him, so she mustered all of her self-control and said nothing more, allowing him to continue.

"It's silly, right? I mean, it's only been a few days, and I barely even spoke to him for two of them because I thought he had a boyfriend. But then today he told me that he doesn't…" he hesitated at the suppressed squeak from his companion, "which was weird in itself. It was like he made a point of telling me that. Why would he do that?"

"Kurt," Rachel answered in affectionate exasperation, "he told you that because he likes you. He wanted you to know he's available. Geez, have you forgotten what flirting is?"

"I know, I know. I just…when I heard him sing, it just went right through me. Rachel, he has the most beautiful voice."

"Wait. You heard him sing? When?"

Kurt recounted the afternoon's events to her. Rachel's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open somewhat indecorously. "Oh my god, Kurt! He _serenaded_ you? Oh, he's got it just as bad for you as you do for him."

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. He wanted to believe Rachel, he really did. If only he wasn't so damn insecure. As if reading his mind, Rachel reached across the table and took Kurt's hand in her own. "Look at me," she said, and he complied. "Kurt, I know you. I know what you've been through. You've had a couple of bad boyfriends, and between that and high school, you've decided that you just aren't meant to be happy. Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're wrong. You _can_ be happy. You are so, so worth it. All you have to do is let down the wall you've put up around this," she released his hand and tapped his chest above his heart. "It sounds like you've started to do that already – I was shocked when you agreed to stay with him. You're usually not so comfortable around new people," she said gently, just stating a fact, not criticizing.

She took his hand once more and continued. "You're an amazing man, Kurt. I see it. Apparently, Blaine sees it, too. From everything you've told me, he seems like a nice guy, and it doesn't sound like he's just trying to get in your pants." Kurt blushed fiercely at that last comment. "So, just relax and let things take their course. Don't shut him out. Give him a shot at the magic that is Kurt Hummel."

Rachel sat back in her chair looking very satisfied with her pep talk. Kurt knew he'd been right to call her. They chatted for a few minutes longer, then parted as Kurt did need to get back to the apartment to finish his writing for the day. He gave Rachel a long hug. "You know, I was the Cheerio, but you're the best cheerleader I've ever had," he said.

"Well, it's easy to cheer for what you believe in," she answered, releasing him from the hug. As they turned in opposite directions on the sidewalk outside the café, she added, "Now go get him, Tiger," and punctuated it with a swat on Kurt's backside. He gave her a quick glare over his shoulder in time to see her wink before flouncing off down the street.

xoxoxo

"You sang to him?" Sam asked after nearly doing a spit-take with his coffee. "Dude," he chuckled, "I knew you had the hots for him, but I didn't know it was this serious."

"Shut up, Sam," Blaine replied, feeling his ears get warm under Sam's scrutiny. "I don't have the hots for him. I just, well I…"

"You like him," Sam supplied, all traces of teasing gone. "It's okay. You can say it."

Blaine took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way about someone. It was terrifying and wonderful all at once. "Yeah, I like him," he admitted, unable to say the words without smiling. "But...isn't it too fast? I mean, a week ago, I didn't know he existed and now he's all I can think about. That's crazy, right?"

"No," his friend answered simply. "Not at all. Sometimes it takes a while, and sometimes it happens right away. There's no one way to fall for somebody. And I am sure that you two shacking up together is helping to speed things along," he added with a wink.

Blaine shook his head and let out an exasperated breath. "We are not shacking up! Nothing is 'speeding' along!" he was about to continue when he noticed Sam stifling a laugh. His best friend knew how to rile him up and was clearly enjoying doing so. "Are you quite finished?" Blaine deadpanned.

"Okay, okay. I'm done. Straight truth here. If you like Kurt so much, just ask him out. From what you've told me, he sounds like a good guy. Give it a chance. The worst he could do is say no, and then you're no farther behind than you are now. He'll be leaving in a few days, and you won't have to ever see him again. You've spent the past couple of years working so hard on this hotel that I can't remember the last time you had a date, let alone a relationship. And when you did go out, it was never with guys you really connected with." Blaine cast his eyes downward and nodded almost imperceptibly at the truth of Sam's words. "It's been a long time since I've seen you look the way you do when you talk about Kurt. Clearly, he's something special. Don't let the chance for something special pass you by, Blaine. It doesn't come around that often."

Blaine sat quietly for a moment, processing what Sam had just said. He didn't register that Sam had risen from his chair until he felt his hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he met Sam's eyes. "Thank you, Sam," he finally said. "You always know the right thing to say."

"That's what bros are for, dude. Now get up there and get yourself a date."

xoxoxo

Blaine took a deep breath before swiping his key card and opening the front door. He stepped in and saw Kurt's shoes on the mat next to the coat rack. He had told Kurt not to trouble himself with removing his shoes upon entering the apartment, but Kurt had insisted. Blaine smiled at the domesticity of it all, and had a fleeting thought of how nice it would be to always open his front door and see Kurt's shoes there. He immediately dismissed the notion. _Next thing you know, you'll be writing his name inside of little hearts, Anderson,_ he thought to himself before taking off his own shoes and setting them beside Kurt's.

"Hi there," Kurt's soft voice called from across the apartment. Blaine looked up to find Kurt seated at the table in front of the balcony doors, his laptop in front of him.

"Hey," Blaine returned with a smile, crossing over toward the open kitchen. "Don't let me interrupt your work. I'll be out of your way in a sec," he added.

"You're not interrupting at all. I'm just about," he paused, returning his gaze to the computer screen and tapping a few keys, "done." He closed the laptop with a flourish and turned back towards Blaine. "There. I'm all yours," he said, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink.

"Great!" Blaine exclaimed, then quickly stammered, "I mean, that you got your work done early, that is." For all his good intentions, he still found himself feeling nervous and flustered. He knew he'd have to stifle those feelings if he was going to ask for that date Sam told him to get. He tried to give himself a moment to recover by getting a glass from the cupboard. Unfortunately, he didn't hear Kurt rise from the table and come across to the breakfast bar counter, so Kurt's next words startled him.

"So, what do you want to…" was all he managed to get out before Blaine turned around and dropped the glass in surprise, shattering it on the ceramic tile floor. Blaine let out a curse under his breath, both at the broken glass and his own clumsiness. Kurt gasped in surprise, and was just about to tell Blaine not to move, but Blaine had already bent down to begin picking up the shards and instantly uttered a painful "Ow!"

Kurt hoisted himself up on the counter by his hands and leaned to look over the breakfast bar. "Are you okay? Did you step in glass?" he asked concernedly.

"No," Blaine sighed, "I did, however, cut my hand," he said, holding out his left hand, palm up, where he'd started bleeding. Kurt grabbed a couple of paper towels from the counter and handed them down. "Don't move," he commanded as Blaine pressed the napkins to his palm. Kurt ran to the door, slipped on his shoes, and grabbed Blaine's as well. He ran back into the kitchen, doing his best to avoid the broken glass which had scattered across the floor but unavoidably crunching a couple of pieces. He crouched next to Blaine, a little behind him but facing the same way. "Lean on me and pick up your right foot," he instructed. Blaine obeyed, and Kurt slipped the shoe on him. Then he switched sides and repeated the motion, this time without any words. "Come on," he said, taking Blaine by the elbow to stand him up and walking him out of the kitchen and over to the table by the balcony doors, pulling out a chair, and lightly pressing on Blaine's shoulder to guide him to sit.

"First aid kit?" Kurt inquired. Apparently, a Kurt Hummel in charge was a man of as few words as possible, Blaine decided. He wasn't about to argue, though, so he just responded, "Master bathroom, top shelf of the linen closet."

"I'll be right back. Keep pressure on that," Kurt directed as he strode down the hall to Blaine's bathroom. Moments later, he returned, bringing the first aid kit, a bottle of alcohol, a dampened washcloth and a hand towel. He popped open the first aid kit and began removing items with a certain precision that seemed to come from practice.

"You have a prior life as a doctor or something?" Blaine asked with a hint of humor. Kurt glanced up and smiled, "Not exactly," he answered, tearing open a gauze pad packet. "I had a brother who played football, and my stepmother is a nurse. Plus…" he trailed off, then shook his head slightly, seeming to change his mind about continuing that train of thought. "Now, let's see what you've done to yourself here," he said, reaching for Blaine's injured hand and holding it lightly. He proceeded to remove the paper towels gingerly, examining the wound and cleansing it. Both men remained silent – Kurt focused on the injury, and Blaine focused on Kurt.

"It's not deep at all, thank goodness," Kurt finally said with a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief. "I'll just put one of these butterfly closures over it and a bandage and you should be all set. Just be sure to change the bandage if it gets wet, but leave the butterfly on for at least a day. I can check it out again tomorrow if you want." He proceeded to put on the butterfly closure, then reached over for the dampened washcloth and gently cleaned the rest of Blaine's hand of any blood that had run across it earlier. He glanced up to find Blaine looking at him with those golden-hazel eyes that took Kurt's breath away every time. This time, they were soft and warm. Kurt gazed back at him momentarily before lifting up the corners of his mouth in a shy smile and returning his attention to Blaine's hand.

Blaine couldn't understand how he could feel so calm when he was sure his heart was pounding loud enough inside his chest for Kurt to hear it. He was wrapped up in the feeling of Kurt's hand holding his, and he had to stop himself from whimpering at the loss of contact when Kurt laid his hand down on the table to retrieve the bandages from the kit and place them across the cut. He couldn't understand how the act of this man wiping his hand with a washcloth felt more intimate and loving than anything he'd ever known with any date or boyfriend before, and he definitely couldn't understand exactly what he felt when Kurt lifted his head and their eyes met. He did know that they were having a moment, and he was pretty sure Kurt knew it, too.

Kurt finished with Blaine's hand, drying it with the towel and then taking one final look to ensure the bandages were secure. "So, am I going to live, doc?" Blaine joked, but his voice was low and a little huskier than he'd expected.

"I think I saved the hand. My medical prowess strikes again," Kurt answered with mock smugness. They both laughed as Kurt began to clean up the table. He stood to take the kit back to the bathroom, but was stopped by Blaine's hand on his arm. Blaine rose from the table and stood right in front of him.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Kurt," he said with sincerity in his eyes.

"It was nothing," Kurt answered. "Just a scratch, really, but I'm glad I could help. It's hard to bandage your own hand."

"I know it wasn't a big injury, but it wasn't _nothing_ ," Blaine replied, that soft, warm look still in his eyes that was making Kurt a little weak in the knees. His conversation with Rachel came back to him, imbuing him with just a tiny bit of courage. If Blaine really was interested as Kurt thought, perhaps he was just waiting for a sign of encouragement from Kurt. Scared as he was, he could do a sign of encouragement, he decided.

"You know, I did forget one step," he said, taking Blaine's injured hand in his own once again. "It's an old remedy, but time-honored." He raised Blaine's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to his palm just above the cut. He ran his thumb ever-so-lightly over the bandage as he looked in Blaine's eyes and said in a hushed voice, "There. All better."

A brief moment that seemed like an eternity passed, in which Blaine tried to remember how to breathe and Kurt panicked internally hoping that he hadn't done the wrong thing. His panic was soon quelled, however, as Blaine took the small step necessary to close the remaining distance between them. He cupped Kurt's cheek with his free hand and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. The kiss was sweet and slow, as Kurt continued to hold Blaine's left hand with his right and rested his own left hand on Blaine's waist. A few all-too-short seconds later, they parted, and Blaine opened his eyes just in time to see Kurt's flutter open as well. "Yes, much better," Blaine murmured.

xoxoxo

"Wow," Blaine sighed.

"Yeah," Kurt answered in a similarly breathless tone.

Kurt was flattered and relieved to see Blaine's cheeks flushing, as he could feel the heat rising in his own face, as well. They stood for a moment, still a hair's breadth apart, before Blaine took a half step back to put a little space between them. His hand remained in Kurt's, and he looked down to regard their now intertwined fingers with a small smile. He felt Kurt's grip loosen slightly, as if to release him, but Blaine held on and looked back up into his crystal blue eyes. _Now,_ a voice in Blaine's head screamed.

"Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

Blaine took a breath, and Kurt, knowing where he was leading, gave his hand a squeeze, being careful not to press on his injury. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight. There's this little Italian place not too far from here – it's far enough away from the Square that it's not overrun by tourists. It's more of a local place, really. I'd love it if you would go with me."

Kurt was beaming, despite his best efforts to remain cool and calm, and Blaine thought he'd seen nothing more beautiful than when Kurt smiled. "I thought you'd never ask," he answered, leaning forward to kiss Blaine on the cheek. "Give me ten minutes to change," he added, finally slipping his hand from Blaine's and heading for his room. He waited until the door was shut to jump up and down and silently squeal. Said door also hid from him the man jumping up and down in the living room, who then cursed under his breath as he raced to his own room to change.

Exactly nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds later, Kurt emerged from his room freshly dressed in his best skinny jeans, knee-high boots, a purple button-down and a gray vest. He found Blaine already waiting for him, looking stunning himself. He had exchanged his daytime suit for a pair of snug red pants topped with a black and white striped button-down and a red bowtie, the outfit being finished at the bottom by a pair of highly-polished leather shoes, but no socks.

"Wow, Kurt, you look…" Blaine faltered as he took in Kurt's appearance. Kurt, similarly affected, just said, "You, too," with a blush.

Blaine offered his arm like the gentleman that he was and said, "Shall we?"

 _A/N: Yay! Don't you just want to send Rachel and Sam thank you gifts? Though the guys did a lot of dancing around one another, and Blaine was pretty forward, I kind of liked the idea of Kurt making the first real 'move' here with the kiss to the hand. Next up – dinner, the return of Sebastian's boxers, and an unexpected encounter._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 _A/N: Date night! Things go well…right up until they don't._

Dinner was wonderful. Blaine had shared some of his history, telling Kurt how he had been brought up his whole life to be in the family business. He alluded to the issues with his father, and was pleasantly surprised to find Kurt sympathetic without pressing for more details than Blaine was willing to give.

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt said with a kind smile. "I get it. We have to save something for our second date, right?" he asked with a wink.

"Definitely," he replied, taking a sip from his drink as a warm glow lit up his honey-colored eyes. "So," he continued, "enough about my less-than-intriguing life," he said self-deprecatingly. "Tell me about you. Did you always want to be a fashion writer?"

"No, no not at all. I actually came to New York for college and started out as a performing arts major," Kurt began. Blaine raised his eyebrows in interest but let Kurt go on. "I took an elective in costume design, and found I really enjoyed the fashion design aspect of it. After my freshman year, I did some soul-searching, and decided that while I loved performing, I didn't really see many viable opportunities for me in that. My voice is kind of," he faltered, searching for the right word, finally choosing, "unique."

"I'm sure your singing voice is fantastic. Your speaking voice is beautiful," Blaine blurted out, his eyes immediately going wide when he realized what he'd just said.

Kurt felt the color rise in his cheeks, but decided to spare Blaine any more embarrassment. "Well, be that as it may," he said with a smirk, "I made the choice to change my major to fashion design. In my junior year, I landed an internship with Vogue as Isabelle Wright's assistant. By the time I graduated, I had a job offer to be a blogger for the website. That was two years ago, and here I am."

"Wow! That's quite a path you've taken. So no more designing, then?"

Kurt tilted his head and glanced downward for a second. "Not really," he shrugged.

Blaine ducked his head down to catch Kurt's eye. "How come?" he asked gently, reaching a hand across the table to rest atop Kurt's.

Kurt looked up and shrugged. "Well, life kind of just happened. I made some attempts right after graduation, but couldn't seem to get anywhere. Isabelle offered me the position at Vogue, and I really couldn't turn it down at the time. I figure being this close to the industry lets me keep a foot in the door. I still do some drawing now and then, and one of these days, I'll get my act, and my portfolio, together and try again," he finished a little half-heartedly.

Blaine smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure that it will happen for you," he said simply, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

Kurt fell for Blaine just a little harder in that moment. Blaine was one of the first people in Kurt's life who didn't push or pry or make him feel like a failure for not having gotten further with his design ambitions yet.

They talked endlessly through the rest of dinner and on the stroll back to the hotel. Kurt suggested they take a route through Times Square, much to Blaine's surprise. Most people who lived in New York, even if just for a little while, learned to avoid the Square like the plague due to the crush of people and noise. However, Kurt said he felt like soaking in a little of the electricity of the place, and Blaine was in a mood to deny Kurt nothing, so he looped Kurt's arm through his own, drawing him tightly to his side as they headed into the throng.

He had to admit, even after having lived here for several years, it really was a sight to behold. Perhaps he just hadn't looked recently, he thought as he felt Kurt press in a little closer while they shuffled through the crowd.

Suddenly, Blaine stopped, almost making Kurt trip, then with an apology, he guided Kurt out of the flow of foot traffic to a spot in the middle of the Square where they could stand without being in the way. Kurt looked over to ask why they'd paused, and saw Blaine staring up across the street. He tried to follow Blaine's line of sight, but there were just the usual giant advertisements and signs all lit up. Looking back at Blaine, he found the man had slipped his phone out of his pocket with the arm not holding Kurt's, aiming it upwards to take a photo. Kurt leaned in saw the subject of the photo, then promptly smacked Blaine on the arm in (somewhat) mock outrage.

"Ow!" Blaine exclaimed, half laughing, half whining. "What was that for?"

Kurt pulled his arm from Blaine's and turned to face him. "Excuse me? I don't think you get to ask questions here, mister." He paused and arched an eyebrow. When Blaine continued to look confused, he elaborated. "I don't know how you were raised, but where I'm from, we don't take pictures of other guys in their underwear while out on a date. It's, I don't know, _rude_ ," he finished, glaring at Blaine pointedly.

Kurt had to admit, the model in the underwear ad high above Times Square was attractive – maybe not Kurt's type, but agreeable enough. He could not, however, imagine that Blaine was one of those gawking boors who would ogle every hot guy in view while on a date.

Blaine's confusion gave way to laughter as he realized what Kurt was thinking. Laughing only seemed to annoy Kurt more, so he rushed to explain. "Kurt!" he stepped forward to close the distance between them, placing a hand on Kurt's upper arm. "No, no, Kurt. It isn't what you think, not at all!" He tried, unsuccessfully, to repress another laugh, which just made Kurt cross his arms and stare at him expectantly.

Blaine chuckled once more, then put his arm around Kurt's shoulders and turned him toward the billboard. "Kurt Hummel," he said formally, looking first at Kurt and then up at the billboard, "meet Sebastian Smythe."

It took a few seconds, but then Kurt's eyes widened with understanding. "Sebastian? Mr. I-Left-My-Calvins-At-Your-Place Sebastian?" he asked, noticing the giant "Calvin Klein" logo in the lower corner of the photo above them.

"The one and only," Blaine said, shaking his head. "I was just surprised to see his ad up here. He's been modeling for Calvin Klein for a while now, but he didn't tell me he'd landed a billboard in the Square. It's a big deal for him, you know?" he smiled proudly, and Kurt melted a little. It was so sweet how happy Blaine was for his friend. The "friend" part loomed in Kurt's mind for a moment longer than Kurt would have liked.

"Anyway, I thought I'd take a picture and send it to him – you know, give him a hard time for not telling me?" Blaine looked at Kurt, a little bit of trepidation shining out from behind his warm honey-colored eyes, hoping he hadn't truly offended Kurt.

"Giving Captain Underpants a hard time? Yeah, I can get on board with that. Pull up a text to him," Kurt said cheerfully, a conspiratorial look in his eye.

Blaine let out a relieved breath and did as Kurt asked, opening a text to Sebastian and attaching the picture. Kurt held out his hand and Blaine gave him the phone. Kurt pressed in close so that Blaine could see the message he typed. "Perfect!" Blaine exclaimed, laughing aloud. Kurt gleefully hit "send," feeling he had gotten a little vindication for Sebastian's smug attitude on the phone.

Blaine was unsurprised when his phone buzzed a few seconds later. It was quite late in London, but he knew Sebastian was a night owl. He held the phone out for Kurt to read the response. Apparently, Sebastian took umbrage to the implication that he needed a three-story billboard to make certain _parts_ of himself visible without a magnifying glass, as Kurt's message had indicated. Nobody messed with Kurt Hummel and escaped unscathed.

xoxoxo

Brad gave Blaine a wink as the pair walked through the front door of The Dalton. They decided to stop in the hotel lounge for a drink before heading back to the apartment. They found places at the bar, where Blaine greeted the bartender warmly. As Kurt admired the genuinely friendly rapport Blaine seemed to have with his staff, he suddenly heard an unwelcome greeting behind him.

"Well, well, well," a snarky British voice drawled, "if it isn't Kurt Hummel."

Kurt felt a chill run down his spine. _No, not here, not now,_ he thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning around on his barstool. "Adam. What are you doing here?"

"Now, is that any way to greet your old friend?" Adam returned, his voice sickeningly sweet. Kurt just glared at him. Adam was no friend. They'd worked together at Vogue – Adam had been a photographer there when Kurt started his internship. Within a short period of time, Adam had gotten a bit too insistent in his unwanted attentions toward Kurt. Adam's behavior – which, it turned out, had not only been directed at Kurt but at several other employees, as well – had cost him his job, and quite a bit of trouble, but he still worked in the industry, so he and Kurt inevitably crossed paths now and again.

As Blaine turned to ask Kurt what he would like to drink, he was surprised to be looking at his back. He then spotted the man standing in front of Kurt and, pushing down a pang of jealousy that he knew he had no right to feel just yet, he started to lean forward to ask Kurt to introduce him, but Adam spoke again.

"You know, I had heard you were whoring yourself out for a hotel room this week, but I just had to come and see for myself." Kurt rolled his eyes, accustomed to insults like that from Adam and determined not to let it get the better of him. "Guess I heard correctly. So, is this the sugar daddy?" he asked, gesturing toward Blaine.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked in a low and incredulous tone. "Who, exactly, are you?"

Kurt looked over his shoulder, his cheeks flushing from the embarrassment of having to deal with this on their date. "It's okay, Blaine. Adam is just an old colleague with a bad sense of humor and a chip on his shoulder," he said, staring icily at Adam as he finished his sentence.

"Oh, honey, there's no joke here except you," Adam continued, leaning in close enough that Kurt could smell the alcohol on his breath. "It's clear to see what you've sunken to. It was only a matter of time before a talentless hack like you had to fall back on his pretty face to get by."

Before Kurt could say a word, he felt more than saw Blaine rise from his stool to stand and step forward, putting himself between Kurt and Adam. Placing a firm hand on Adam's shoulder, Blaine stared at him, his normally warm amber eyes hard as stone but his face otherwise passive. Adam winced slightly under Blaine's grip. "Listen," he paused for effect, " _Adam_ , is it? Kurt is a guest in this hotel. I am the proprietor of this hotel. I don't care to have my guests made to feel uncomfortable, and I certainly don't like to have rude little boys like you intruding on my guest's evening and spewing hateful nonsense. So, _Adam_ , you're going to walk out of here and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and you are never, ever going to show your face in my hotel again. Understood?"

Adam glanced from Blaine to Kurt and back again. He winced once more as Blaine momentarily tightened his grip before releasing him and patting his shoulder. "Have a nice night, Adam," Blaine said, a smile on his face but ice in his voice. Adam apparently decided he was beaten, and after giving Kurt a dirty look, turned and walked out.

"Wow, what a jerk," Blaine said, turning to Kurt and then stopping short at the cold glare he was receiving.

"Can we just head upstairs now?" Kurt asked in a clipped tone. Blaine nodded and the two of them headed for the elevator. Neither spoke a word until the apartment door was closed behind them. Kurt was crossing toward his room, not bothering to take off his boots as he normally would have done, when Blaine asked from behind him, "Did I do something wrong, Kurt?"

Stopping in the center of the living room but keeping his back to Blaine, Kurt answered, "I had Adam under control." His voice was low and steady.

"What?" Blaine asked, advancing into the room. Kurt turned and faced him.

"I had Adam under control," he repeated, a little more heat creeping into his tone. "You didn't need to get involved. I can handle myself."

"I am sure you can handle yourself," Blaine said, taken aback by Kurt's anger. "I just didn't like the things he was saying to you and I wanted to help."

"I don't _need_ your help!" The answer came back even louder and more forceful. Kurt took a couple of steps towards Blaine, physically moving into the confrontation. "I am perfectly capable of handling jerks like that. I've been doing it my whole life. I don't need you or anyone else to swoop in and save me, thank you very much!"

Blaine threw his hands up in frustration. "Well pardon me for sticking up for you, Kurt. I didn't realize it was a criminal offense to defend your date against insults. I'd like to think that if the situation was reversed, you would have done the same for me." The anger was rising in both of them.

"You just don't understand," Kurt said with a frustrated shake of his head.

"I guess I don't," Blaine snapped back.

"This is pointless. I'm going to bed." Kurt turned on his heel and stormed off to his room without waiting for a response. At the last second, he remembered his manners as a guest and closed the door quietly instead of slamming it like he wanted to.

Blaine stood motionless in the middle of the living room. One thought crossed his mind and then escaped his lips. "What the hell just happened?"

 _A/N: Uh oh! Don't worry, though. Next up – working things out._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 _A/N: I know several of you questioned Kurt's reaction to Blaine's defense of him against Adam's rudeness. Yes, he reacted strongly, but he had his reasons. I spent a lot of time revising Kurt's explanation here – much of it is my interpretation of Kurt from canon, but some of it is based on my own experiences, too. I hope I do the story justice here._

2:30 a.m. The clock on the nightstand in Kurt's room seemed to mock him as he lay sleepless. He'd been tossing and turning for hours now. An emotional cocktail of anger, frustration, embarrassment, and remorse had been swirling in him. The first two had subsided while the latter two took a firmer hold. He'd hesitated leaving the sanctity of his room, not knowing when or if Blaine had retreated to his own, but he couldn't stare at these walls and this ceiling any longer. Certain that another half hour had passed, he checked the clock again. 2:33 a.m.

Tossing aside the covers, he rose and quietly padded to the door, dressed in his t-shirt and sweatpants, not bothering with a robe or slippers. He listened for a moment, then turned the handle as silently as possible and slipped out into the hallway, heading for the kitchen. The glow from the microwave clock and a couple of electronics in the living room, combined with the light filtering in from the door to the balcony, provided just enough illumination for him to make his way. He opened the refrigerator and took out the half gallon of milk, poured some into a glass he took from the cupboard, and returned it to the refrigerator again. He suddenly remembered the broken glass from earlier, his head snapping down towards the floor as he realized he was barefoot. By the dim light from the nearly-closed refrigerator, he could see that the floor was now clear. With a sigh, he shut the door and turned toward the kitchen counter behind him, took a sip of milk, then set the glass down.

"I cleaned it up after you turned in." The words spoken barely above a whisper were still enough to draw a sharp gasp and a less than graceful jump from Kurt. He looked across the dimly-lit apartment to see Blaine by the balcony window as he reached over and clicked on a small table lamp before walking towards Kurt.

"Oh, my god, Blaine, you scared the crap out of me," Kurt responded, his hand over his heart. "Where did you come from?"

"I was standing looking out the window when you came out of your room. I didn't want to frighten you, but when you didn't notice me, I thought I should let you know I'm here. I'm sorry." He still spoke in a hushed voice, as one tends to do in the middle of the night. He'd crossed into the kitchen, and stood with his back leaning up against the refrigerator door, just a few feet from Kurt, but a few feet that felt like a few miles. Kurt took a moment to admire the sight of Blaine dressed simply in a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants. The t-shirt looked well-worn and had a faded red "D" insignia on the front.

Kurt gave him a small, sheepish smile. "That's okay. It's your home, after all. You have every right to be wherever you want to be."

Silence fell between them as they each looked away awkwardly. Suddenly, they turned toward each other and spoke simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I…"

"Blaine, I am really sorry that…"

They both stopped and laughed a little nervously. Blaine's hand found its way to the back of his neck as he gazed at the floor, and Kurt occupied himself by biting his lower lip. Blaine broke the silence first this time, saying, "Kurt, can we talk for a minute?" He gestured toward the living room and then headed for the couch. Kurt nodded and followed, bringing his glass of milk with him.

They sat down, turned slightly in towards one another. Kurt's glass was on the coffee table, and Blaine regarded it with mild amusement. "Milk, huh?" he asked.

Kurt shrugged, hoping that in the dim lighting Blaine couldn't see the tint coloring his cheeks. "My dad would always give me milk to help me sleep when I was little. I figured it couldn't hurt."

Blaine smiled gently. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep either," he answered. He let out a long breath, then directed his gaze to Kurt. "Look, I'm truly sorry if I offended you tonight, Kurt. I honestly was just trying to do what I thought was right. I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't handle yourself. I really didn't like the way he was speaking to you and I'm the kind of person who won't stand idly by and watch something like that happen." He paused before adding, "Especially not to you."

Kurt took a beat before offering his own apology. "No, Blaine, I'm sorry that I jumped down your throat like that. I'm terribly independent sometimes, and I have a long history of dealing with jerks like Adam, unfortunately, and an equally long history of having to do it on my own. Besides that, Adam just has this way of…setting me on edge, shall we say? You were being a gentleman, and I had no business speaking to you like that. Forgive me?" he asked contritely.

Blaine held out his hand and Kurt took it in his own. "We're quite the pair," he joked, squeezing Blaine's hand lightly, then gasping quietly. "Oh, I forgot," he said, holding Blaine's hand gingerly. "Did I hurt you? How is it?" he asked, his thumb brushing over the bandaged palm.

Blaine smiled and answered, "It's fine. Just a scratch, really." He looked down at their joined hands. "Kurt?" he asked quietly, not raising his eyes. "Earlier when we were…well, earlier, you said I didn't understand." He looked up then, meeting Kurt's eyes and hoping he wasn't crossing a line. "What did you mean?"

He could see Kurt tense up, and he adjusted his hold so he could stroke the back of Kurt's hand with his thumb in encouragement. He thought about taking the question back, but he waited a moment to give Kurt the opportunity to choose whether to answer or not.

Kurt took a breath and let it out. He looked down as well, then back up at Blaine with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, sorry about that," he started. "Aside from Adam just being, well…the whole thing just stirred up a lot of old memories for me. I learned early on in life that I'd have to stand up for myself, and that even if I had people to support me, I couldn't just sit back and rely on them."

He took a moment to collect his thoughts, and Blaine remained silent. He shifted slightly on the couch to be a little closer to Kurt, and retained his hold on his hand. Kurt's glance drifted off to the side, not really looking at anything in particular, except back into the past.

"High school was really rough for me. I was the only kid who was out of the closet. Once I came out, I was determined to be myself, and there was no shortage of jocks and homophobes ready to make me pay for it. I got thrown into dumpsters, slammed into lockers, slushied," he was looking back at Blaine now and noted his look of confusion. "You remember those awful ice drinks with the flavored syrup?" Blaine nodded once. "Well, imagine a super-sized one being thrown in your face."

"What? Kurt, that's…that's awful," Blaine managed to say, tightening his hold on Kurt's hand once more, not caring when he felt a slight pain where his palm had been cut. His eyes lit up with realization and he said, "Oh, god, when you were bandaging my hand you said you had experience because of your brother who played football and something else…"

Kurt gave him a humorless smile. "Getting tossed at metal lockers leaves some cuts and bruises," he said, confirming Blaine's suspicions.

Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Where in the hell were the teachers and the administration during all this?"

"They were busy looking the other way, or being ineffective, or apathetic. It was like they figured, 'hey, you're gay, your life's just gonna suck.'"

That statement struck a chord with Blaine. He remembered thinking the exact same thing once upon a time.

"Anyway," Kurt continued before Blaine could interject, "there was this one particular Neanderthal who was worse than the rest. It was his life's mission to seek me out and make me miserable. Finally, I confronted him and called him out on his behavior." Kurt paused. It was easier for him to talk about this than it had been years ago, but still difficult enough. "I made the mistake of doing it in the boys' locker room, away from everyone else. Out of nowhere, he – he kissed me." He saw Blaine's eyes go wide with shock. "It was my first kiss; well, the first one that counted." Kurt gave Blaine another rueful smile before suddenly finding himself wrapped in a strong but gentle embrace. He felt Blaine's hands firm on his back and slowly slid his arms around him to return the hug.

"God, Kurt," Blaine whispered, his voice raspy with emotion, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"It's okay, Blaine," he replied, oddly enough feeling like he had to comfort Blaine, instead of the other way around. "It was years ago," he continued, pulling back and taking both of Blaine's hands in his. Kurt wasn't a particularly tactile person, but with Blaine, somehow the constant touching felt natural. "Things kind of devolved from there, and eventually got bad enough that some disciplinary action was taken. My dad wanted me to switch schools, but I refused. I'd already developed the mindset that I had to fight for my place in the world. I wasn't going to let anyone or anything chase me away."

Blaine felt a slight stab at those words, remembering his own trauma and flight from public school to Dalton. While he'd loved his Dalton experience, and was glad that he'd gone there and made so many good friends, he still felt that in some respects he'd failed by not staying at his original school. However, now was not the time to focus on that and he maintained his focus on Kurt.

"So, I continued at my school. My friends tried to help, or so they thought. They surrounded me in the hallways between classes, forming a sort of protection squad. I know their hearts were in the right place, but it just made me stick out even more, you know? Not that I was ever one to blend in, but It felt like it was just drawing attention to the poor gay kid who got hate-kissed, when all I wanted…"

"All you wanted was to be in control of your own life after he took your control away," Blaine finished quietly.

Kurt blinked at him in surprise. For the first time, someone got it.

Clearing his throat, he went on, wanting to finish what he'd started. "I made it through graduation, and moved here for college. Things got better; the culture here was completely different and I felt a lot more accepted. But I soon learned that no place was perfect. I was walking home one night and stumbled into a gay-bashing. It left me this," he freed his right hand from Blaine's grasp to brush back his hair that had fallen across his forehead and reveal a small, faded scar just above his eyebrow. Blaine had noticed it before (he'd noticed everything about Kurt) but hadn't given it much thought. He wrinkled his brow in concern now, knowing its origin.

"It's okay," Kurt consoled him once again. "I remember telling my dad I hoped I'd have a scar. Guys dig scars, right?" he asked with a wink, making Blaine chuckle lightly. He took advantage of the slight break in Kurt's story to prompt him with the question he'd been dying to ask.

"And…Adam?"

Kurt sighed. "Adam," he muttered, making a face that reflected his annoyance with the man. "He was a photographer at Vogue when I started. Nice enough guy to begin with; very friendly, eager to show me around and such. Then," he sighed again and paused.

"Kurt, you don't have to…" Blaine interjected, not knowing how bad this story might actually be.

Kurt gave him a small smile. "It's okay, really," he said, patting Blaine on the knee. "Anyway, his attentions quickly became more…pronounced. He was constantly flirting and making comments about how I looked. Then he started asking me out. The first couple of times he asked, I made some excuse not to go – trying to give him the hint that I wasn't interested without making him feel awkward and rejected, since we were co-workers. He didn't take the hint, however.

"The passes and date requests only got more frequent from there. I finally had enough and flat-out told him to leave me alone. That's when the phone calls started."

"Phone calls?" Blaine asked, not liking where this was going.

"He kept calling my cell – he'd gotten the number somehow – and just wouldn't leave me alone. He even showed up at my apartment once," Kurt said quietly, the memory still disturbing to him. "I should have said something at work much sooner, but I was an intern, you know? And I was still determined to take care of things myself. Anyway, Vogue acted quickly, and did some additional investigating. It turned out he was not only harassing me, but a couple of other interns, as well. He lost his job, naturally, and blames me."

Blaine's face was a mixture of concern and anger. "Kurt," he said, his voice low, "did he ever…did he hurt you?"

"No! No, Blaine," Kurt quickly reassured the man. "Nothing like that. And he really has left me alone since then. Vogue's HR and legal departments made it very clear to him that they would not hesitate to take action against him if he hassled any of us."

"You're going to let them know about tonight, right?" Blaine said, phrasing it like a question but clearly meaning it like a strong suggestion.

"Blaine," Kurt warned, then closed his eyes to stop himself. No, he didn't need to get angry like he did earlier. This was someone looking out for him, not babying or patronizing him. Opening his eyes, he found Blaine still looking at him expectantly. "Fine," he huffed overdramatically as he conceded.

"So," Kurt continued, "I don't know if any of this explains my reaction tonight – it certainly doesn't excuse it, I know. It's just…"

"Kurt, Kurt – it's okay. I get it," Blaine interrupted. "I understand. I'm sorry if I overstepped."

Kurt shook his head in amazement. "You are – you are truly a unique man, Blaine Anderson. I may have had my reasons, but you were nothing short of kind and wonderful. So, um, thank you," he finished with a catch in his voice.

The two men looked at each other in silence, the weight of their disagreement lifting despite the heaviness of the conversation they shared. "Well," Kurt finally said, desperately wanting to change the subject and lighten the mood, "I think we've both had enough drama for one night." He barely stifled a yawn as he finished speaking.

"Yeah, okay," Blaine murmured. He regarded Kurt for a moment, then slid over on the couch closer to him. "You know," he continued, his voice quiet but also a little flirty, "we didn't get to properly complete our date tonight."

Kurt could feel his pulse quicken. "You're right, we didn't," he agreed. "How might that have gone?"

Blaine stood from the couch, still holding Kurt's hand, and pulled slightly to encourage Kurt to follow. Blaine led Kurt over to stand by the front door, as though they'd just walked in from their date. He turned and faced him, taking his other hand and standing close. "I had a really good time tonight, Kurt," he said, his amber eyes somehow catching and reflecting what little light was in the room.

"Me, too," Kurt breathed. It should have felt silly, this little pretense between them, but it felt anything but. Before he could really think about it, he leaned in and kissed Blaine lightly, their lips barely touching once, twice, before Blaine took a half step forward and moved from holding Kurt's hands to holding onto his waist. He then tilted his head and connected their lips more firmly. He heard Kurt's sharp intake of breath through his nose before he felt one of Kurt's hands on his bicep and the other at the back of his neck, fingers starting to thread through his hair.

Blaine's one hand slid to the small of Kurt's back, while the other came to rest between his shoulder blades pulling him flush to his chest as the kiss continued slowly but with building passion. It wasn't frenzied or rushed – it was romantic, if a little cautious. Blaine swept his tongue across the seam of Kurt's lips, and he thrilled when he felt Kurt part them immediately. He gently dipped his tongue into Kurt's mouth, deepening the kiss. He echoed Kurt's soft moan as they fell into an instant rhythm. After a few more minutes, feeling the need for air, Blaine pulled away a little, but not completely, adding a couple of soft pecks to the corner of Kurt's mouth while trying to get his brain to form the words he needed to say. "Kurt," (kiss), "Kurt, we should probably," (kiss).

He got some help from Kurt, who was thinking the same thing. "Yeah," (kiss), "yeah, Blaine, let's," (kiss, kiss). He finally slipped his hands around to Blaine's chest to push back slightly and ground himself.

"Wow," Blaine exhaled. "I'm sorry I keep saying that after we kiss," he added, smiling sheepishly. "I'll try to come up with something more original."

"That's okay," came the response. "I feel the same way," he smiled. "So," he continued teasingly, crossing his arms at the wrists behind Blaine's neck and returning to their little act while he tried to get his heart under control, "do you bring all your men back here on the first date?"

Blaine blanched a little at the comment, which didn't go unnoticed. "Hey," Kurt insisted, cupping Blaine's cheek. "I didn't mean anything by that. I was just kidding. God, I'm making a mess of this."

Blaine took Kurt's hands again, raising them to his lips and kissing the back of each softly before looking into his eyes. Kurt felt his insteps melting at the contact. "No, it's fine. I just," he paused, "I actually don't bring guys back here. Ever. I know our living situation is a bit, unusual right now, but I want to be really clear about something." He looked down at their joined hands and then back up into Kurt's deep blue eyes.

"I know we haven't known each other long," he continued, "but you're special to me, Kurt. _This_ feels special to me, and I want to take it slowly. I want to do things right and give this a proper chance. So even though we're in my apartment at three in the morning, I don't expect anything… _more_ …to happen here. This isn't some hook up for me, Kurt. I hope that's okay with you."

Kurt was stunned. He hadn't really expected Blaine to try anything, and Kurt wasn't one to throw himself around, but it was still so surprising and refreshing to find someone who understood that without Kurt having to explain himself. "I completely agree," he said, realizing Blaine was looking at him expectantly while Kurt was lost in thought. "I want to take it one step at a time, too."

A deep pause fell between them. Kurt could practically feel his body pulling towards Blaine's, but he had meant what he said. "We should probably try to get some sleep," he finally said, much as he would have preferred to spend more time close to Blaine.

"May I walk you to your door?" Blaine asked, stepping back and offering his arm as he had at the beginning of their date. Kurt took it, and felt the butterflies in his stomach when Blaine drew him near. They stopped in front of Kurt's room and turned towards one another.

"So, does this taking it slow thing include me getting one more good night kiss, perhaps?" Kurt asked, feeling suddenly a little shy and awkward saying such a thing while standing in the open doorway to his bedroom. He knew neither of them intended to cross _that_ line yet, but he couldn't help asking for another kiss before retiring.

Blaine didn't speak. He simply pulled Kurt to him and held him tightly, indulging in the joy of kissing him. Their lips eventually parted and Kurt said, a little breathlessly, "Good night, Blaine."

"Sweet dreams, Kurt." Just when Kurt thought he was going to release him and walk away, Blaine leaned in, rising slightly on his toes, and placed a feather-light kiss on the scar above Kurt's brow. He smiled and took a step back.

Both men turned to their own rooms and shut their doors. Only the walls in each room heard their occupants whisper, "Wow."

 _A/N: Hope the ending makes up for the angst at the end of Chapter Five. Next up: Fashion Week draws to a close (ok, so it's technically "Fashion Four Days," I guess, but such is the world I've created), Blaine's father crops up again, and Kurt receives a surprising, life-changing offer._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 _A/N: Welcome back! Hope you've all recovered from the weekend of staring at pics of Darren in a Speedo. I want to give special thanks to VoyageAsia for recommending this on her Tumblr blog (HKVoyage), as well as to Lynne for recommending it on the KlaineCrissColferLibrary Tumbler blog. I am flattered, ladies! If you haven't checked out their blogs, by all means, do so (after reading this chapter, of course)!_

 _We're entering the last third of this story. This chapter has some fun bits (Kurt sings!), and then things get interesting. Buckle up._

Kurt was up and out of the apartment early the next morning, not out of any desire to avoid Blaine, but out of necessity. It was the last full day of Fashion Week, with the best shows of the week being saved for last. Kurt had a very full schedule in front of him, and probably wouldn't make it back to the apartment all day.

He'd had an idea as soon as he and Blaine had said goodnight. He sent an e-mail to Isabelle, hoping she would have a chance to respond quickly. To his delight, she replied bright and early, allowing Kurt to leave note for Blaine on the counter:

 _Blaine – sorry again for the misunderstanding last night. I would like the opportunity to make it up to you if you'll let me. Vogue is having a party to wrap up Fashion Week tonight. I would love if you would come as my guest. I'll leave your name at the door. Meet me there at 7, and wear something nice (as if you would do otherwise, I know). The address is below. I hope you can make it. –K._

xoxoxo

One would never have known that Blaine had only gotten a few hours of sleep based on the way he breezed into the hotel office that morning. He had an extra-bright smile for just about everyone. Even though Blaine was usually a pretty upbeat person, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this excited to face the day. However, he was soon to learn that as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

As he approached the office door to head out to the front desk, the door was shoved open. Derrick Anderson nearly ran over his son as he plowed through the door. Once he caught sight of Blaine, the elder Anderson's scowl darkened further. "In your office. Now," he growled as he pushed his way past his son toward the office. Blaine closed his eyes, took a breath, then turned on his heel and followed his father.

Derrick barely waited until the door was shut before asking in an accusatory tone, "Is there something you want to tell me, Blaine?"

Blaine, annoyed at having his good morning so quickly ended, was in no mood to play games. "Clearly there is something you think you know that has upset you, Father. Why don't you just tell me what it is and we'll get this over with?"

"You'll watch your tone with me," his father spat. When Blaine didn't react, he continued, "Do you mind telling me why, when I arrived a little while ago, I saw a man exiting your private penthouse elevator at this hour of the morning?"

Blaine froze. This was not information he had wanted to share with his father. Derrick took the silence as an admission of guilt. "We had an agreement, Blaine. Discretion. You keep your… _activities_ …quiet and I allow you to continue to manage The Dalton. I don't call having some fa…" he cut off the word at Blaine's sharp look, "some _person_ doing a walk of shame from your apartment through this hotel's lobby discrete. And for god's sake, he couldn't _be_ any more of a stereotype, the way he was dressed, I mean…"

"Enough!" Blaine interrupted. He hadn't raised his voice – the walls weren't all that thick here and he didn't need all of the other employees knowing his business – but he spoke in a low, commanding tone that caught his father's attention enough to stop him from speaking. Blaine took a long, slow breath before pushing off the door where he'd been leaning and walking over towards his father. "Who that was and why he was here is none of your concern. There was nothing untoward going on, and nothing that would breach our _agreement,_ " he said, forcing out the last word. This "agreement" was becoming more and more offensive to him by the second.

"It most certainly is my business when it's going on in my hotel. I tried asking that stupid desk clerk of yours and your head of security, but neither of them seemed to know anything about it." Blaine bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He owed Tina and Sam for their loyalty.

Another moment of heavy silence passed between them before Derrick spoke again. "Well, seeing as how you apparently aren't willing to answer my questions, I'll just say this," he said, leaning in towards an unmoving Blaine. "You'll do well to remember the rules if you want to remain here at The Dalton." With that, he stalked past Blaine and left the office, leaving the door open behind him.

Blaine let out a cleansing breath and closed his eyes, trying to re-center himself. He plucked his phone out of his inside jacket pocket and pulled up a contact that he'd been using a lot recently. He quickly typed out a text that simply read, "Status?" A moment later, his phone vibrated with a notification, and a smile slowly spread across his face. Blaine slipped the phone back into his pocket, straightened his jacket, and moved to sit at his desk to begin working for the day. Anyone walking past might have heard Blaine mutter under his breath, "No worries, _Dad._ I won't be your problem much longer."

xoxoxo

At the end of the day, Blaine took a cab uptown to the posh Central Park West address Kurt had indicated in his note. He was no stranger to wealth, but even he was impressed by the location. He gave his name at the door, and was instructed to proceed to the upper-floor apartment where the party was being held.

The place was large and elegant, with stunning views of the Park. There were already dozens of people milling about, laughing and talking (and drinking, of course). Blaine looked around for Kurt and found him rather quickly. He took a moment to admire him from afar. Kurt was animatedly talking to a woman, but within a minute of Blaine's arrival, he looked up from his conversation toward the door. Blaine didn't know that Kurt had been impatiently looking at the door every minute or so for the past fifteen minutes, at least. Blaine felt his pulse quicken when Kurt's face lit up at the sight of him. Kurt took the arm of the woman with him and said something to her before leading her toward the door to greet Blaine.

"Hi, I'm so glad you could make it!" Kurt said, walking up to Blaine and hugging him without hesitation. "Blaine, this is Isabelle Wright, my boss," he gestured toward the woman next to him as Blaine extended his hand. "Isabelle, this is Blaine, who saved me from living on the streets," he added dramatically.

"Blaine!" Isabelle exclaimed, ignoring Blaine's offered handshake in favor of giving him a brief, one-armed hug (the other hand being occupied with her martini) and a light kiss on the cheek. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Kurt has talked of nothing else all week," she gushed.

"Isabelle," Kurt whined as he blushed furiously. "Seriously?"

Blaine smiled at her and responded, "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Isabelle. Kurt has told me a lot about you." He leaned in conspiratorially and stage-whispered, "I haven't spoken of much besides him all week, either." Isabelle laughed and Blaine glanced over to give Kurt a wink, thrilling when he saw the blush deepen further.

They chatted for several minutes, discussing the success of the week and how well Kurt's blog entries were being received. Blaine said he'd enjoyed reading them himself, much to Kurt's surprise, as he hadn't known Blaine was reading them. Kurt told Isabelle about what a gracious host Blaine had been, and mentioned his musical abilities, as well.

"Ah, speaking of," Isabelle said saucily, side-eying Kurt before looking at Blaine. "Have you heard our Mr. Hummel sing yet, Blaine?"

"No, I haven't had the pleasure," he answered gallantly.

"Well, we have to rectify that, don't we?" she said, turning on her impossibly high heel and heading towards a dais that had been erected at the end of the room for the party. Kurt tried calling after her, but she was gone in a second.

"Oh, dear lord," he muttered, covering his eyes with his hand. Blaine sidled up next to him and slid his hand around Kurt's waist, feeling unbearably happy when Kurt leaned into his side. Kurt looked over at him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Hi," he said quietly now that they were alone.

"Hi," Blaine whispered back. Just as he was about to move in for a proper kiss, his attention, and that of everyone else in the room, was taken by the sound of Isabelle's voice. She was speaking into a stand mic that had been set up on the dais. Blaine hadn't noticed the dais before, nor the small band situated there which had been playing some soft background music for the party.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome! I hope you all are having a wonderful time, and I'm so grateful you were able to join us for this little soirée to celebrate the end of a grueling and fabulous Fashion Week." A polite, but sincere, round of applause followed. "I don't know about you folks, but I could certainly use some entertainment."

Isabelle made a few more general remarks, then returned to the topic that Kurt hoped she had forgotten. "Now then," she said, taking a sip from her martini glass, "I believe I began this little speech by promising you all some entertainment. Never fear, I won't be the one doing it," she paused as her guests laughed appreciatively. "However, my young, handsome, charming and ever-so-fashionable fashion blogger has a little bit of talent tucked away that I am sure he would love to share with you all."

Kurt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head in disbelief. Blaine, who had moved to stand behind Kurt while Isabelle was speaking, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist from behind, gave him a supportive squeeze.

"So without further ado, please join me in welcoming to the stage 's very own Mr. Kurt Hummel!"

The room began to applaud but Kurt stood still. He felt Blaine move close to his ear and then heard him whisper teasingly, "Come on, show me what you've got, Hummel."

Kurt turned his head to catch Blaine's eye, giving him a knowing smirk before disentangling himself from Blaine's arms. Handing him his glass, he winked and headed for the stage.

Kurt had originally thought about singing a beautiful ballad, but on his way up front, he changed his mind. He didn't want to bring down the party, for one, but more importantly, he wanted to rise to Blaine's challenge. Reaching the stage, he was met with a hug from Isabelle. He jokingly whispered "I'm going to kill you for this," in her ear, to which she only laughed.

"Go on, honey, be amazing," she replied and exited the stage. Kurt gave the crowd a small wave to acknowledge their generous applause, and walked over to have a quick chat with the pianist who led the band. He nodded in assent to knowing Kurt's selection (of course, Isabelle had engaged a band familiar with Broadway tunes), and returned to the center of the small stage, removing the microphone from the stand and setting the stand aside. He'd need some room for this one. He spoke not a word, but stood still, looking down as the first notes sounded, snapping his head up with the first line.

 _Coming home used to feel so good  
I'm a stranger now in my neighborhood  
I've seen the world at a faster pace  
And I'm coming now from a different place_

He started to slowly pace across the stage, taking control of it and the room. Isabelle made her way over to Blaine and linked her arm with his. He glanced over at her to acknowledge her presence, but only for a split second before returning his gaze to the stage, completely entranced.

 _Though I may look the same way to you  
Underneath there is somebody new_

 _I am not the boy next door  
I don't belong like I did before  
Nothing ever seems like it used to be  
You can have your dreams, but you can't have me  
Oh, I can't go back there anymore  
'Cause I am not the boy next door_

"Fantastic, isn't he?" Isabelle said, leaning over to Blaine. He nodded but didn't let his eyes leave Kurt as he let out a breathless, "Yeah…"

Kurt continued to work the small stage, and the room. He was thankful for the cordless microphone as he walked off the stage and into the enthusiastic crowd. Memories of his first NYADA audition came to mind, but he had no gold pants this time, just his voice and a couple more years of experience behind him. Oh, and a gorgeous man to impress, of course.

As Kurt made his way toward Blaine after the next chorus, Isabelle spoke in his ear once more. "You know he's doing this to show off for you," she said. She had seen video of Kurt's NYADA audition before, so she knew what was coming. Blaine gave her a quick questioning glance. She simply nodded her head back toward Kurt and said, "Wait 'til you hear this…"

 _I'm not sorry for just being me  
But if you look past the past you can see that  
I am not…_

Kurt stopped right in front of Blaine just as he perfectly and beautifully hit and held the high note. Blaine's mouth dropped open in awe. Isabelle giggled and put her hand under his chin to close it.

 _Nothing ever seems like it used to be  
You can have your dreams, oh, but you can't have me  
I can't go back there anymore, 'cause I am not  
I am not  
I am not the boy next door_

As he hit the last note, he raised his free hand in the air, holding out the note and looking to the ceiling before looking back at Blaine when he finished. He laughed aloud, immediately finding himself caught in Blaine's strong embrace as the partygoers went crazy with applause and cheers.

"Kurt, you're incredible!" Blaine exclaimed when he finally let go and stepped back to let Isabelle and others nearby congratulate Kurt. The crowd of excited party guests soon came between them, and Blaine moved back a little, content to watch Kurt in his glory.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, but he realized in that moment that this man, a person he hadn't even known a week ago, made him happier than he had ever been. This feeling, combined with the news he'd received late this afternoon by text, was making this one of the best days of his life.

The party went on. Kurt and Blaine did find each other again soon, at which time Blaine gave him another huge hug and one or two (or three) kisses, as well. They mingled among the other guests, and Kurt was so pleased and proud to have someone like Blaine with him. He had such a charming, easy manner, making others instantly relaxed. He never strayed far from Kurt, and often kept in physical contact, either holding his hand, or letting Kurt take his arm – anything to stay close.

About an hour later, Isabelle rushed over to Kurt's side. "Blaine, I am so sorry, but I need to borrow Kurt here for a few minutes," she said, clutching Kurt's arm and beginning to pull him away.

"Isabelle!" Kurt exclaimed. "What? Come on, can't this wait? It's a party!"

She looked the man in the eye and said firmly, "Kurt, trust me. You are going to want to discuss this now." Suddenly, she went back to her bubbly self. "Blaine, darling, I promise I won't keep him too long. You can take care of yourself, right sweetie?"

Blaine smiled and agreed, while Kurt lovingly rolled his eyes at Isabelle's profusion of pet names. "I'll be right back," he mouthed to Blaine as the petite, but apparently very strong, woman dragged him across the ballroom and out onto a terrace where they could speak in private.

xoxoxo

About twenty minutes later, a very flustered-looking Kurt found Blaine chatting with a few of Kurt's Vogue co-workers. "Hey," he greeted gently, noting the change in Kurt's demeanor. Without a second thought, he slipped an arm around Kurt and turned back to the others. "Would you excuse us? I haven't seen this guy in what has to be ten whole minutes and I just have to steal him away," he said with a wink, earning a couple of fond "aww" sounds from the ladies in the group.

Blaine guided Kurt with a hand on the small of his back, walking to the less-crowded far side of the room before asking, "Is everything okay, Kurt?"

Kurt took a deep breath and gave Blaine a small, rather unconvincing smile. "Yes, yes, of course," he said a little breathlessly. For the first time, he got to see Blaine's version of the disbelieving arched eyebrows (in Blaine's case, they both rose together, as opposed to Kurt's single-brow arch). Kurt bit his lower lip and shook his head. "No fooling you," he muttered.

Blaine moved in closer and linked his hands around Kurt's waist. "Kurt, whatever it is, you can tell me," he said encouragingly.

Kurt smiled again, this time more sincerely, and rested his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "Can we get out of here? We can talk at home?"

Blaine nodded, hoping that his lessons from his high school drama class worked as he tried not to react to Kurt referring to the apartment as "home."

It was a relatively short and silent cab ride back to The Dalton. Blaine didn't press Kurt to discuss what was on his mind, knowing Kurt wanted to wait until they were settled in the apartment. The weight of the topic seemed so heavy on Kurt's mind that Blaine knew it was foolish to try to discuss something else, so they rode quietly. Kurt had reached for Blaine's hand the moment they'd gotten in the cab, and he didn't release it until they entered the apartment.

Both men doffed their jackets. Blaine gestured for Kurt to sit in the living room while he got them each a cup of tea. Heavy conversation seemed to call for tea, in Blaine's mind.

They settled on the sofa, turned toward each other, two cups of tea on the coffee table before them. Kurt took another deep breath and dove right in.

"Six months or so ago, I was up for a job at Vogue. It was a promotion to be a junior writer for the magazine. Not the website, the actual print publication." Blaine looked duly impressed, and Kurt continued. "It came down to me and one other candidate, and in the end, she got the job. I was fine with it, really," he laughed at Blaine's look of incredulity. "No! Really! Vanessa had the superior experience. I couldn't argue with their choice at all."

He paused, and Blaine waited. After a moment, he felt the need to prompt Kurt along. "Kurt? So what happened after that? What does this have to do with you stepping out to talk to Isabelle and coming back looking like someone just gave you the shock of a lifetime?"

Kurt grimaced and replied, "At the party tonight, Isabelle got a call. It seems Vanessa had to give up the job. Something about family issues and she is going to have to move back to Florida. It was all rather sudden, through no fault of Vanessa's, of course, but now the job is vacant."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "Kurt! Do they want you for the job?" he asked excitedly. Kurt bit his lip and nodded once. "That's wonderful!" Blane said, reaching forward to take Kurt's hand. Only then did he realize that he was the only one on the couch who was smiling. "Kurt," he said slowly, "why aren't you excited? Don't you want the job anymore? I mean, it's a step up for you, right?"

"Oh, it's definitely a step up. It's the best move I could make from where I am now," Kurt conceded, but Blaine could tell he was stalling. "There's just one, well, problem. I'd," he paused again, not wanting to say the words, "I'd have to, um, _relocate_."

Blaine felt a chill in his stomach as he asked the next question. "Where's the job, Kurt?"

Kurt felt the hitch in his breath as he whispered his answer. "Paris."

 _A/N: Uh-oh. Only two more chapters left (though I am considering an epilogue – let me know your thoughts on that once we're there). Next up: another serious conversation, a revelation, and a decision._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This is the closest I've ever come to writing angst. No warnings, except for a massive case of the feels, perhaps._

The room was silent. Blaine couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt, and Kurt couldn't take his eyes off of the floor.

Blaine was in shock. Paris? With Vogue's huge presence in New York, he'd never thought that Kurt's job offer could be out of the country. His heart sank in his chest. This was it. He'd let himself get wrapped up in his feelings, swept away by an amazing, gorgeous, talented, intelligent, perfect man in a few days, and now he felt more heartbroken than he ever had in his life. Their relationship was so new that he couldn't understand why this hurt so much. Yet here he was, trying desperately not to cry and…oh, god. Kurt was looking at him now and it was ten times worse.

"Blaine?" Kurt said quietly. They were still holding hands, and his tightened slightly. Blaine had paled a bit, and was looking at Kurt in a way that made Kurt's heart ache. He couldn't do this. He knew it was silly – they barely knew each other, after all – but he couldn't be responsible for putting that look on Blaine's face. "I didn't say yes, Blaine," he said hurriedly.

Blaine blinked rapidly a few times to shake off the increasing urge to cry. "What? Kurt, what do you mean you didn't accept? This is an amazing opportunity for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Kurt admitted with a blush.

"So," Blaine prodded, scooting a little closer and taking Kurt's other hand so he was now holding them both. "You wanted this job six months ago, right?" Kurt nodded. "Well, then, what's changed?"

Kurt angled his head to the side and gave Blaine a look. "Come on, Blaine," he said quietly. "You know what's changed."

It was Blaine's turn to blush, but he couldn't let himself get caught up. "Kurt, listen," he began, looking sincerely into Kurt's eyes. "I'm just going to say this. You can't turn down this opportunity for me. Hear me out," he rushed when Kurt opened his mouth in protest. "I know this is a weirdly serious and probably very inappropriate conversation to have with someone you have known less than a week, but we've never been terribly conventional, have we?" he asked with a wry grin that Kurt returned. "I really, _really_ care about you, Kurt. Probably more than I should at this stage of things. I think what we have is special, and I am so, so profoundly glad that I asked you to stay here that day." Blaine forced back the tremor in his voice as he continued to look into Kurt's now-glassy eyes. "But," he paused, hating the look of anxiety that flitted across Kurt's face at the tiny word, "we have to think rationally about this. You've worked so hard at Vogue for two years now. I know this kind of chance doesn't come along that often. You can't just turn your back on it so quickly. It wouldn't be fair to you, and it would hang over us – whatever we do or don't become – like a shadow. I couldn't live with myself if I kept you from doing something you really wanted to do with your career."

Kurt gave him a watery smile and leaned forward across their joined hands, unable to hold himself back any longer as he pressed a chaste kiss to Blaine's lips. Blaine returned the kiss warmly, stroking his thumbs over the backs of Kurt's hands in his.

"You are the most incredible man I've ever met," Kurt breathed when they parted. He leaned back into his original position. "How am I supposed to leave you?"

Blaine released one of Kurt's hands and reached up to cup his face. "Hey, we could work something out, maybe. I could come visit, or you could come back here…" he trailed off as Kurt immediately shook his head.

"I can't do long distance, Blaine," he said, a tremor in his voice. "I – I tried that once. With my college boyfriend. He was a year older than me, so he graduated first. He got a job in LA. We tried the whole long distance thing, but…he…I," Kurt faltered, then took a breath and looked back at Blaine. "Neither of us held up our end of the bargain, in different ways. I can't do that to myself – or to anyone else – ever again."

Blaine's face fell as his hand slid from Kurt's face to land back in Blaine's own lap. They were grasping at straws, he knew.

"I know I have no right to suggest it," Kurt said, his voice small as he broke the silence, "but maybe you could come? I mean, your family has properties in Paris, right? You could manage a hotel there the same as you could here?"

A shock of realization crossed Blaine's face as his hand flew up to cover his mouth. With all that had happened this evening, he had somehow managed to forget the most important thing – well, until Kurt's revelation – to have happened all day.

"Oh, Kurt," he sighed. He laughed mirthlessly, which worried Kurt. Blaine looked off to one side, seemingly at nothing, for a few seconds, then back to the man sitting so close to him. "I can't, Kurt. You see, as of this afternoon, I don't work for the Anderson family anymore."

Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, you see, I kind of, well…"

"Blaine," Kurt said in the exasperated tone that Blaine secretly adored.

"I bought The Dalton."

That, Kurt did not expect. "You what?"

"The Dalton. I bought it. Well, technically, Warbler LLC bought it, but I _am_ Warbler LLC, so…" Kurt still looked confused. They hadn't talked too much about Blaine's relationship with his father, but from what little Kurt knew, it was not a good one.

"But, your father – he sold it to you?"

"My father has no idea whom he sold it to. The Warblers were the glee club at Dalton Academy - he thinks Warbler LLC is run by an alum who wanted to remain anonymous," Blaine said with a slightly devious grin. "I guess I should explain," he said, settling further into the couch but still, he realized, holding Kurt's hand. "As you know, my father and I don't get along. At all. He can't deal with the fact that I'm gay. The only reason I'm even allowed to manage The Dalton is because my mother somehow convinced him to do it. He tolerates me here because I do a good job – not that he'll ever admit that to me – but that's about all.

"When I came to The Dalton…for the first time, I felt like I had found my place. I love this hotel, and I love this apartment. It is all just so right somehow," he smiled fondly. "So, a few months ago, I was talking to Sebastian during one of his stays here. He was the one who suggested that I buy the place and separate from my father's business. I immediately dismissed the idea, knowing my father would never sell to me and knowing that I didn't have the money anyhow." He smiled ruefully before adding, "Remember when I told you Sebastian was just a friend? Well,"

Kurt cut him off with an almost comical, "I knew it!"

"Take it easy there, Kurt," Blaine laughed, knowing the conclusion to which Kurt had jumped. "That's not what I meant. I was telling the truth when I told you we'd never been involved romantically. No, Seb is more like family to me. At least, what a family _should_ be anyway."

Kurt reached over to the table for his tea and curled his feet up underneath him on the couch. He felt a story coming on.

"When we were at Dalton Academy together, we were rivals at first. I was in a bit of a bad place when I got there. I'd been beaten up pretty badly at my old school, and while Dalton promised a zero-tolerance bullying policy, I wasn't all that trusting of other guys. After my first few weeks, Seb decided to stop competing with me for Warbler solos and instead he spent the better part of a month trying to make me his next conquest." Kurt angrily sipped his tea but didn't interrupt. "I finally snapped at him and told him to back off – oddly enough, he did. He told me later that he wasn't necessarily interested trying to 'loosen me up,' as he called it." Blaine smiled fondly at old memories. "Sebastian was, and in some ways still is, a narcissist and a player, but he showed me it was okay to be me – to live out loud and not be afraid of being gay. He was the first really open, out guy I knew, and it was amazing to watch.

"Anyway, we wound up having a similar schedule and between that and being in the Warblers together, we actually became friends. That first year, when spring break came along, the prospect of going home wasn't a pleasant one. My parents' marriage had been bad for years, and had gotten worse when I came out, thanks to my dad's reaction, so I was dreading it. Sebastian offered to have me stay with him and his parents in the Hamptons for the week. It was the first of many vacations I spent with the Smythes. They were wonderful, welcoming people, and Sebastian was actually quite a different person around them. I realized the attitude at school was just his defense mechanism, and that underneath, he was really a decent guy.

"We became more like brothers than anything else, and his parents considered me an additional son." He paused, looking off into the distance as if he could see into his own past. "I loved Dalton Academy, and my time there was wonderful, but it was underpinned by some of the most tumultuous personal problems I've ever had – coming out, my parents' divorce, just being a teenager…Seb and his family got me through all of that." He looked back at Kurt then, blinking rapidly a few times and trying to shake off the specters of the past.

So," he continued, "that brings us back to a few months ago. When I discounted Seb's idea, he refused to let it go. He contacted his father, who is a business attorney, and set up a meeting before I even knew what he was doing. His dad helped me set up a business to hold the hotel, and helped me to put together financing for the deal. He wouldn't take a dime for the legal work other than expenses for filings." He paused and smiled. "Seb even put in some money to help me. I tried to refuse, but he said, and I quote, "What else am I going to do with all this underwear money?" I didn't realize it until we saw the billboard at Times Square – he must have had the deal in the bag already, which explains where he got the cash in the first place. Anyway, I argued with the two of them at length, but the Smythe men are quite a force to be reckoned with," he laughed.

Kurt softened his attitude toward Sebastian. He'd have to remember to send him something nice to make up for the snarky text he'd participated in earlier.

"When I was younger, I felt like I didn't have a choice in following in my father's footsteps. I hated myself for not standing up for myself and pursuing something different. The only odd saving grace was that I actually enjoyed the business. I worked at a few different properties, then…" he looked around the room briefly before looking back to Kurt, "I came here," he finished with a small wave of his hand. "It was like the feeling I got when I went to Dalton Academy the first time. A sense of – belonging, I guess. Of _home_. I never could have put up with my father's attitude otherwise."

Kurt nodded to show his continued interest, but didn't dare speak a word, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over Blaine which had him sharing so much.

"I caught wind from my mother that my father was looking to divest the company of some properties, including this one. I am sure he was going to take quite the delight in kicking me to the curb without warning. That's where the conversation with Sebastian came in, and the idea of me buying The Dalton out from under my father's nose. Seb's father acted as my agent so I would never have to be in direct contact."

"Didn't your father suspect something when your best friend's father was involved?" Kurt couldn't help but ask.

Blaine shook his head and scoffed. "My father has _no idea_ who my friends are, let alone their parents. That would entail him taking an interest in my life, which he never has."

There was a pause, and Kurt cursed himself silently for interrupting. Blaine seemed to take the moment to refocus before continuing.

"So you see, Kurt, why I can't go to Paris with you. God, there's a part of me that wants to," he said, leaning in subconsciously, catching the reflection of light in Kurt's eyes. "But I've put down roots here. I never thought I'd have a home of my own – a place to _stay_ that wasn't someone else's. This hotel is my baby, my responsibility; I can't walk away from it, I can't…"

Kurt could hear that Blaine was getting upset, and so he finally cut him off. "Blaine. I understand," he said, clasping both of his hands around Blaine's for emphasis. "I didn't know. I never would have suggested you leave this place if I had known."

Silence fell again. They both knew what the next question was, but neither one wanted to ask it. Without saying a word, Kurt returned his teacup to the table and shifted on the couch, opening his arms. Blaine instantly melted into him, tucking his head under Kurt's chin as they sank backwards into the plush cushions.

They stayed that way for a while, just listening to the quiet and the sounds of each other's breathing. Blaine brought up his hand and rested it over Kurt's heart, finally taking the next step in the conversation with a simple, "So?"

"So," Kurt replied with a sigh.

"I think we know what this means, Kurt," Blaine said, feeling Kurt's heart speeding up.

"Blaine, I don't want to walk away from this – from you. You know that, right?"

"Of course, Kurt. But you have to do what is best for you. This job is a rare chance to follow your dream. You can't just dismiss that."

Kurt was silent. He couldn't believe this was happening. He knew what Blaine said made sense. It was perfectly logical. But that logic seemed at odds with the feeling in his chest when he looked in Blaine's eyes. Damn it.

Blaine spoke next, his head still nestled into Kurt's chest. "When do you have to leave?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Kurt took a deep breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to memorize what that felt like with Blaine's weight upon him. "There has been a change in one of the management positions since I last interviewed, so they want me to meet with the new person before everything is official. I'm told it's a formality, but she insisted, and it makes sense."

He stopped and Blaine shifted to look up at him. Kurt wasn't sure what he saw it Blaine's eyes, but he knew realization and fear were part of it. "When, Kurt?" Blaine whispered.

"They want me on the red-eye tomorrow night. I'll be there a few days, provided the in-person interview goes well, to help with the urgent matter of the current issue. After that, I'd come home to settle things, and be back in Paris full-time within two weeks." He stopped, taking in a shuddering breath. "I'm meeting with Isabelle tomorrow morning, then I should go home to pack."

Kurt reached his hand out to stroke the back of his fingers across Blaine's cheek as Blaine closed his eyes in resignation. A tear slipped out of Kurt's eye when Blaine subconsciously nuzzled into the touch.

They stayed there for what might have been minutes or hours, just being together. There really wasn't much more to say, was there?

Blaine eventually moved, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly as he disentangled himself from Kurt's embrace and sat up. Kurt followed suit and sat beside him. Blaine glanced over at the clock and saw that it was nearly two a.m. "We should call it a night, I guess," he said quietly.

Both men rose and made their way down the hallway towards the bedrooms. They reached Kurt's door and stopped. Kurt looked over at Blaine, who was staring at the floor intently. He tried desperately to think of what to say, but words failed him. Then, Blaine stepped away, towards his own bedroom, and looked back over his shoulder and extended his hand toward Kurt. Kurt looked at the hand, and then back up at Blaine. "Won't that make it more complicated?" he asked, hating himself for not just taking his hand immediately.

"Kurt, I'm not looking to have sex with you tonight," Blaine said bluntly, his voice low and a little husky. "You're right – that wouldn't do either of us any good in the long run. I'm not ready to let you go yet, though. I can't be in there with you in the next room. Just let me hold you tonight. Please." His hand remained in the same outstretched position as he spoke, his eyes locked on Kurt's.

Without any further hesitation, Kurt stepped forward and firmly took Blaine's hand, which he found was trembling. Or perhaps the trembling hand was Kurt's. The two smiled at each other softly, and moved together into Blaine's room. They got undressed quickly, down to their boxer briefs. Any awkwardness that might have surrounded their undressing and getting into bed together seemed to disappear under the weight of the circumstances. They didn't have time to be shy. This was all they had.

Soon enough, Kurt was wrapped in Blaine's arms under the covers. They knew their limits, but that didn't mean they were going to ignore their desperate need to be close. A long time was spent on slow, deep kisses, needy, roaming hands, and the tight press of bodies together. With the soft whispers and murmurs they exchanged, it somehow felt even more intimate than if they had taken things farther.

Mental and emotional exhaustion eventually overtook the two, who finally succumbed to sleep in each other's embrace.

 _A/N: I'm sorry! I'm a sucker for a happy ending, though. Hang in there._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I've had lots of guesses from readers as to how this will be resolved. The wait is over! Just remember: Kurt always zigs when you expect him to zag, especially when he gets help from the smartest character who was ever on Glee. This one is a little longer than the other chapters, so get cozy._

The late afternoon sun that filtered through the large glass balcony doors of Blaine's penthouse found him sitting where he'd been much of the day. On the floor.

He'd awakened that morning to an empty bed. He knew without calling out that Kurt had left the apartment already. He knew without reading the tender note that was left on the kitchen counter that Kurt was only following what they'd agreed to the night before – no long, drawn-out goodbyes or teary final embraces. That was more than either of them could have handled. Blaine had been certain that he would wake up when Kurt did, but apparently Kurt had been a bit too stealthy for that.

Blaine made it through taking a shower, but then dressed himself in his old Dalton Academy tee and a pair of sweatpants, foregoing his hair gel on a work day for first time in ages. He grabbed his phone to send a quick e-mail to the staff saying he was taking a sick day and was not to be disturbed. Tossing the phone somewhere in the vicinity of the couch, he made the decision to allow himself twenty-four hours to indulge in the most spectacular, heartbreak-induced pity party that there ever was.

He'd wandered around a bit, but couldn't seem to bring himself to do anything in particular. He started heading towards the music room to play, but stopped halfway down the hall, unable to enter without remembering the last time he'd played in there. Eventually, he settled himself on a cushion on the floor, his back leaning against one of the dining room chairs and his gaze directed out the balcony doors, though not at anything in particular.

The room darkened as twilight set in. He glanced down beside him at the room service tray on the floor. The food remained untouched. At lunchtime – or maybe it was dinner, he really didn't know – he had heard the penthouse door open and click shut. He knew without looking that it was Sam who, as head of security, obviously had a key.

Blaine and Sam had been friends long enough to know how to handle each other's broken hearts. Sam came around in front of Blaine and waited for the other man to meet his eyes. He tipped his head sadly to the side when he saw Blaine's glassy eyes and pained expression. Sam crouched down and put the room service tray on the floor beside Blaine, then sat beside him before gathering him into his arms for a strong hug. He let Blaine literally cry on his shoulder for a while, and when he quietened, Sam released him once more.

"You could go after him, maybe," Sam offered.

Blaine shook his head. Had he thought about going after Kurt and trying to stop him from leaving? Of course he had (perhaps a hundred times or so), but he knew better. This was Kurt's dream job. Blaine had no claim on him, and even if he did, he wouldn't get in the way of that. Besides which, Kurt was a strongly independent man. If the incident in the bar with Adam had taught Blaine nothing else, it had taught him that. Racing after Kurt like some leading man in a rom-com would not work.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Well, if there's anything I can do," Sam said softly, to which Blaine only nodded. It killed Sam to leave his friend in this condition, but he understood that Blaine required time alone to process before he could begin to deal with the pain. So, with a pat on the shoulder, he rose and left, closing the door gently behind him.

xoxoxo

In contrast to Blaine's day of solitude, Kurt had not had a moment to himself since he'd left The Dalton early that morning. He had packed up his belongings at Blaine's the day before, so slipping out quickly in the morning had been easy. When he'd packed, he had thought he would simply be going home to Bushwick after the completion of his Fashion Week assignment. He'd figured he would leave after he and Blaine returned from the Vogue wrap party, as he really wouldn't have felt right imposing on Blaine's hospitality any longer. In his heart, he'd hoped that he would leave with plans for his next date with Blaine, which would be the first of many dates…

What a difference a day makes.

Upon arriving at the apartment, he was met with an armful of Rachel. Over breakfast, he filled her in on the job and Blaine, and Rachel had been a mixture of excited and sad about everything. They hadn't had too much time to chat, however, as Kurt had promised Isabelle he would come in to tie up loose Fashion Week ends and discuss endless details about his departure from the New York office, as well as pointers for the Paris interview. He left Vogue in the late afternoon to return to his apartment and re-pack for his trip overseas.

Once he was back home, Kurt realized he was finally alone for the first time that day. Knowing he had a million things to do before the taxi arrived to take him to the airport, Kurt did the only thing that made sense. He called his father.

From the outside, no one would have ever expected Burt Hummel to be exactly the father that Kurt needed. There were any number of times in Kurt's early adolescence when he'd had trouble believing it himself. However, Kurt had learned rather quickly that no one – _no one_ – on this planet was more on Kurt's side than his dad. Also, as much as it pained Kurt to admit it sometimes, his father was one of the smartest people he knew.

Their conversation was a long one. Burt let Kurt tell him all about the week, about everything that had happened with Blaine, about the job offer – all of it. Burt had asked a couple of questions, and had given Kurt an earful about taking up with a stranger in his apartment, but otherwise just listened. He finally took his cue when he heard the one sentence that Kurt had been building to over the past hour.

"Dad…I don't know what to do," Kurt said, his voice breaking as the tears finally began to fall.

Burt knew. He also knew better than to flat-out tell Kurt what to do, because that was the absolute best way to get Kurt to do the opposite. So with his own brand of genius and patience, he talked Kurt through it, helping him to understand the importance of the opportunity before him and giving him the ability to come to peace with his decision to pursue it. Kurt was never more grateful for his father's advice, and planned to hug him extra hard the next time he visited home.

When the taxi pulled up, Kurt was already outside waiting. He was nervous and excited for this next phase of his life to begin. Once settled in the car, he gave the driver his destination and sat back for the ride. He'd never imagined that a simple college internship could have ultimately led him to this. Perhaps Isabelle was more of a fairy godmother than he'd ever know.

xoxoxo

The room was completely dark now, save for whatever ambient light from the surrounding buildings managed to make it through the windows. Blaine continued his vigil from the floor, staring out at the city lights that had enchanted him so often. Tonight, they offered little comfort. He tried not to be bitter, he really did, but he couldn't help but curse fate or destiny or whatever cosmic force had decided to give him The Dalton and take Kurt away from him on the same day. That wasn't irony. That was just cruel.

He heard the door to his apartment open and close. It was nice of Sam to check in on him again, but he really didn't want to talk to him again tonight.

"Somebody forget to pay the light bill around here?" Blaine heard as the entryway lights flipped on. Blaine's breath caught in his throat and his heart began to pound. It wasn't the light that took him off-guard. It was the voice…it couldn't be.

He heard a shuffling sound, and then the soft footsteps of socked feet swiftly padding across the room towards him. He adjusted his gaze at the balcony door glass so that instead of looking out at the city, he focused on the reflection instead. His hand flew to his mouth and he let out a sob when he saw the tall figure heading towards him.

Blaine scrambled to his feet just in time to be enveloped by Kurt's strong arms. They embraced tightly, almost painfully so. Blaine could feel himself trembling as Kurt held him, one hand stroking his back slowly. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay," Kurt's melodic voice repeated. "I'm here now. It's okay."

Blaine pulled back enough to look at Kurt. He reached his hands up and touched his face, almost as if to check if Kurt were real. He was real enough, as were the tears pooling in his azure eyes and the smile playing about his perfect mouth. The questions raced in Blaine's mind, but they would have to wait.

Their lips met in a hard, fast, desperate kiss full of anguish and relief. It was a moment neither of them had expected to have, and they seized upon it as if it might be taken away again. When the need for oxygen became too great, they broke the kiss, but followed it with lighter pecks and touches, slowing down gradually as they tried to bring their hearts under control.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, kissing the lobe. He shuddered to hear Kurt murmuring his own name, as well.

Finally, they pulled back enough to look at one another again. "Hi," Kurt said with a giggle. Blaine chuckled and shook his head. "Hey," he responded, kissing the tip of Kurt's nose.

"Kurt," he said, trying to focus so that he could finally figure out what was going on, "Kurt, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be on a plane to Paris right now."

Kurt smiled and unwound himself from Blaine's embrace, turning to grab two of the dining room chairs and pull them out, offering one to Blaine and taking the other for himself. "Yeah, um, Paris? Not gonna happen." He said simply. Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion and Kurt continued.

"I was such a wreck today, Blaine," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I was all set to go. I told myself it was the right thing to do. I mean, you and I talked about it. We made up our minds. It was all for the best."

Somehow, even having Kurt here in front of him, hearing those words made Blaine's heart hurt. "What happened?"

"I called my dad." Kurt had told Blaine about Burt. Blaine envied him his relationship with his father, and hoped one day he could be as good to his child as Burt Hummel had been to Kurt.

"I told him everything. About us," he paused when Blaine raised a triangular eyebrow, "god, Blaine, not _everything_ ," he said with a playful slap to Blaine's arm. Blaine caught his hand, raised it to his lips and kissed the palm, mimicking what Kurt had done to him just a few days ago. He maintained his hold on Kurt's hand, lowering it to rest on his lap, and motioned for him to continue. "I told him about the job in Paris, and what a great opportunity it was – a dream job, really. Then he asked me a question that hit me like a ton of bricks."

"What was the question?" Blaine asked curiously.

"He asked me when being a fashion writer in Paris had ever been my dream." Kurt paused, remembering Burt's words.

 _"Kiddo, I've known you since the day you were born. I've known you to dream about singing on Broadway, and designing costumes, and designing clothes. You've wanted to be in New York ever since you knew what New York was. You've always told me what your future would look like, and while the picture has changed a couple of times, and probably still will as you get older, I can tell ya one thing. You have never, ever, told me you wanted to live in Paris or be a fashion writer for the rest of your life."_

"He was right, Blaine. I took the internship with Vogue, and later the jobs as Isabelle's assistant and as a blogger, because I told myself it was a stepping stone to being a designer. I don't want to write about fashion; I want to _create_ it. But when I graduated, and things didn't immediately work out, I got scared. I gave up. I hid behind my work at Vogue, telling myself that I was just biding my time, but the truth is I haven't so much as picked up a pencil in months. It was just easier to go along with what I was doing rather than to keep trying and risk rejection again."

Blaine smiled sympathetically and leaned over to kiss Kurt, partly in consolation, and partly just because he could.

"My dad helped me see that I really didn't want that job in Paris. Yes, it's the next step in a certain career path, and it's _a_ dream job, but it's not _my_ dream. My dream job is here in New York, and it's time that I start working towards it again. He also helped me see that there is another opportunity right in front of me, too."

Blaine tilted his head in curiosity. "Really? What?"

Kurt scooted a little closer to Blaine, pulling their joined hands to his heart. "The opportunity to be with the most incredible, charming, kind, sweet, stunning man I've ever met in my life, right here in the city where I've always known I belonged; the chance to finally, _finally_ , share my life with a person who cherishes me and understands me. I know it is ridiculous to make this kind of declaration after knowing someone less than a week, and I know I walked away from you just this morning, but I just…"

His next words were cut off by Blaine's lips pressing to his own. They only kissed for a few seconds before parting. Kurt's eyes fluttered open to see Blaine smiling. "Me too, Kurt. Me too," he said simply, responding to the words Kurt hadn't even said.

They sat and talked for a long time after that, discussing what was next for Kurt in his career. After talking to his father, Kurt had made the requisite calls to Isabelle and the team in Paris to give them his decision. Isabelle, ever his friend and supporter, agreed to meet with him for lunch over the weekend to discuss ways Kurt could begin working in earnest on his design career again. She said that if he wanted, he could stay on in his current position for as long as he needed the income while he got his other plans up and running. Blaine made a mental note to send gifts to both Burt and Isabelle for their respective roles in bringing Kurt back to him.

Kurt eventually noticed the tray on the floor, and dragged Blaine to sit at the breakfast bar when he heard that Blaine hadn't eaten all day. Kurt whipped up something, and joined Blaine for a light meal as they talked more into the evening. Without any actual discussion, they walked arm-in-arm to Blaine's bedroom for the night.

Once under the covers, they twined together naturally, exchanging soft kisses and touches that quickly increased in urgency and passion. Unlike the night before, they let their walls collapse, knowing they didn't have to withhold their feelings or desires this time. They had the whole night to be together, and every night after that, too.

Later, when lingering kisses replaced heated ones and their heart rates began to return to normal, Kurt curled into Blaine's side, sighing as Blaine's fingers traced invisible patterns up and down Kurt's arm.

"So much for taking it slow," Kurt quipped.

Blaine snorted a laugh, remembering his speech from just a couple of nights ago. "Yeah, sorry about that," he answered, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Kurt replied, dropping a kiss to Blaine's shoulder and sighing in contentment before they fell quiet again.

"You kept your key," Blaine said, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Hmm?" Kurt murmured absently in reply.

"You let yourself in tonight. You kept your key."

Kurt shifted so that he was lying on his stomach, partially draped across Blaine's torso. He rested his chin on his chest and looked up at him, smiling as he saw the warmth in those golden eyes. "Guess I wasn't as ready to check out of The Dalton as I thought," he said, intending to sound playful but surprising himself with the shaky emotion that accompanied his words.

Blaine pulled him up and kissed him deeply. When their lips parted, he reached until he found Kurt's hand. He brought it to his chest, pressing Kurt's open palm over his heart and covering it with his own. "That's okay, Kurt. You'll always have a place to stay here," he said, and Kurt knew that he didn't mean at The Dalton.

xoxoxo

The late morning sun streamed into the bedroom. Kurt woke slowly, stretching like a cat and taking a long, deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he was briefly confused by the décor until he remembered where he was. He was in Blaine's room – in Blaine's _bed_ , to be exact. A smile spread over his face and he turned over, reaching out for Blaine.

The other side of the bed was empty.

He sat up and looked around. Before he could begin spinning theories as to why Blaine had left him alone, his eyes fell upon a neatly-folded pile of clothing at the foot of the bed with a note on top. He leaned forward and picked up the note. _Come find me_ , it said. Looking back at the stack of clothing, he grinned when he noticed a soft t-shirt with the faded "D" insignia on the front (how many of these did Blaine have, he wondered), along with a pair of comfy-looking pajama pants.

Once dressed, and after a quick stop in the bathroom to check his hair and swish a little mouthwash around, he stepped out into the hall and immediately knew where to go. The sounds of the piano from the music room left little question as to where Blaine had wandered.

The sight before him was breathtaking. The morning light behind Blaine was strong, making his profile stand out in sharp contrast. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and navy blue pajama pants, and damn if Kurt didn't think he'd be happy to see Blaine wear that every day. His hair, which Kurt had noticed yesterday was free of its gel prison, was still a mass of tousled curls, but somewhat tamed. Kurt grinned, knowing that Blaine had taken the effort to primp for him just as Kurt had.

Unable to wait any longer, he crossed the room and perched himself on the piano bench next to Blaine. He turned Blaine's head toward him with a gentle finger under his chin and claimed his mouth in a warm, tender kiss. "Morning," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's lips, giggling as the two of them grinned and sort of ruined the possibility of the kiss going any further.

"Good morning," Kurt replied. "Sleep well?"

Blaine hummed in reply and kissed Kurt's cheek before turning back and vamping a random melody on the piano keys. This was where Blaine came to be happy, and now he had Kurt to share it with him.

"You know, you owe me," Kurt said.

Blaine turned his head slowly and gave Kurt an amused look. Kurt's eyes widened and he lightly batted Blaine's arm. "Not like _that_ ," he scolded.

"I was gonna say," Blaine replied teasingly.

"Pervert," Kurt huffed as he scooted closer to Blaine anyway. "I meant that you owe me a duet."

"Hmm?"

"That time that I came in here and you serenaded me," Kurt began.

"I did not _serenade_ you," Blaine protested weakly.

"Oh, you so did," Kurt retorted. "Anyway, you said that maybe we could duet some time. It's been, like, _two whole days_ , and I have yet to see my duet."

"Well, now. We can't have that," Blaine transitioned into the introduction of a song Kurt recognized. He let Blaine sing first.

 _I'll tell the world, I'll sing a song  
It's a better place since you came along  
Since you came along  
Your touch is sunlight through the trees  
Your kisses are the ocean breeze  
Everything's alright when you're with me_

 _And ah ah ah ah ah, you're my favorite thing  
Ah ah ah ah ah, all the love that you bring  
But it feels like I've opened my eyes again  
And the colors are golden and bright again  
There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong  
It's a better place since you came along  
It's a better place since you came along_

Kurt smiled as he loosely looped his arm through Blaine's. He took over next.

 _I see the whole world in your eyes  
It's like I've known you all my life  
We just feel so right  
So I pour my heart into your hands  
It's like you really understand  
You love the way I am_

 _And ah ah ah ah ah, you're my favorite thing  
Ah ah ah ah ah, all the love that you bring  
But it feels like I've opened my eyes again  
And the colors are golden and bright again  
There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong  
It's a better place since you came along  
It's a better place since you came along_

The words rang true for both of them. As much as Blaine loved The Dalton, having Kurt with him made it even that much more wonderful – complete in a way Blaine had never known was possible.

Kurt, for his part, would never stop being grateful for the series of events which had put Blaine in his path – a path that, had they not met, would have had Kurt halfway around the world starting a job he really didn't want. But Blaine had brought everything into focus for Kurt, and for the first time in a long time, Kurt felt like he was headed in the right direction.

The two smiled a little brighter as they joined together to sing the rest of the song, their voices blending perfectly, as they knew they would.

 _Now I'm alright, now I'm alright_  
 _Everything's alright_

 _Cause it feels like I've opened my eyes again  
And the colors are golden and bright again  
There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong  
It's a better place since you came along  
It's a better place since you came along_

The last note on the piano faded away as Blaine's hands left the keys and slid around Kurt's waist. Kurt's hands traveled up around Blaine's shoulders as they kissed. He threaded his fingers into Blaine's hair, playing with the curls and swallowing the soft moan that the movement elicited from the back of Blaine's throat.

"I love your hair like this," he whispered as Blaine's lips traveled across his cheek towards his ear.

"Ever make out on a piano?" Blaine replied, nibbling lightly at Kurt's earlobe.

"Mister Anderson," Kurt said in a mockingly scandalized tone, "I don't think this is that kind of hotel."

"It's okay, I know the owner," came the response, followed by a shriek and laugh from Kurt as Blaine stood and hauled him atop the baby grand to give a whole new meaning to the concept of a 'duet' in the music room.

 _A/N: There you have it! It turned out little longer than I originally intended, as things were added along the way – often based on your suggestions. My apologies to anyone who finds song lyrics tedious, but I really liked the words to "Better Place" by Rachel Platten for this chapter. I believe I have decided to do an epilogue chapter, but I haven't started writing it yet, so give me a little time._

 _Thank you all for reading. Whether you favorited or commented or just read along, I really appreciate the fact that you came on this journey with me. This is the longest piece I've ever written, and though I know it is shorter than a lot of fics out there, it is quite an accomplishment for me. May you all be well and find your place to stay._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10/Epilogue

 _A/N: Hey there! While the first nine chapters do stand as a complete story, I thought I'd add one bonus chapter/epilogue to take a peek into the future (because who doesn't like to do that?) Plus, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't write at least one scene with Kurt and Sebastian in the same room…_

"Yep. Send him up," Blaine said cheerily into the phone before disconnecting. "He's on his way," he called out loudly into the apartment.

"Where do you keep the holy water?" Kurt replied as he entered the kitchen area, a wry smirk on his face.

"You know, that joke _never_ gets old," his boyfriend answered quickly back, grabbing Kurt around the waist and taking a playful nip at his earlobe.

"Hey, I'm just looking out for you," Kurt giggled as Blaine tickled his sides lightly. They were halted from going any further when three sharp taps sounded on the front door.

"I'll get it," Kurt said, heading for the door with Blaine close behind.

Upon opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of Sebastian leaning on the doorframe, one foot crossed leisurely over the other. "Well, well, well," he began, his voice dripping with his trademark blend of amusement and condescension, "I thought I'd get comfortable out here, not knowing when the two of you would be able to stop doing unspeakable things to one another long enough to answer the door. Color me surprised."

"Ah, Sebastian," Kurt drawled, "not even across the threshold and already you are vile and degrading. That's a new record for you, isn't it? You must be proud."

"You gonna let me in, princess?" Sebastian retorted, pushing himself away from the doorframe and walking past Kurt without waiting for an invitation.

"By all means," Kurt muttered under his breath, closing the door behind him. He turned and found Sebastian standing close, startling him slightly.

Suddenly, Sebastian's features changed from leering to open and happy. "I've missed you, Kurt," he said, his voice softer and sincere.

"Aww, I've missed you too, Bas," Kurt answered, opening his arms wide and taking Sebastian into a warm, friendly hug.

"I swear, I will never, ever understand the relationship between the two of you," Blaine commented from a few feet away where he'd been watching the exchange.

Sebastian laughed as he broke away from Kurt. "Hey, I knew from that first text message that this one could keep up with me. I have to respect that, Killer." Kurt just smirked and winked back at him.

"You know, I'd be worried about the two of you if I thought you could go ten minutes without killing one another," Blaine remarked, laughing as he hugged Sebastian hello himself.

"True," Sebastian answered as he released Blaine. "I mean, who wouldn't want all of this?" he asked, waving an arm towards himself. He ignored the hand that Kurt enthusiastically raised in the air as he cried out, "Ooh, I wouldn't!"

Sebastian rolled his eyes and sighed. "Anyway," he went on, rubbing his hands together, "are we ready to get to work?"

xoxoxo

A year had come and gone since that Fashion Week which had brought Blaine and Kurt together. In that time, Blaine had been extremely busy working to make The Dalton his own. Fortunately, most of the staff had agreed to stay on with him instead of leaving or trying to find other jobs within his father's company. Apparently, his father hadn't been too popular among the staff.

A few weeks after taking over The Dalton, Blaine got a call he'd been expecting. Well, almost. He had anticipated that he would be on the receiving end of his father's wrath once Derrick learned that Blaine was the mystery buyer of the hotel. Blaine had figured his father would come swaggering into The Dalton one day to give him the "good" news (about him being out of a job, that is), at which time Blaine would be able to share his own good news and ceremoniously toss his father out the front door. But as the days and weeks went by, Blaine became a bit apprehensive of the silence. He couldn't understand what is father was waiting for. The finalities had all gone through, and the hotel was officially under his control, but still there was no word from his father.

Then the call came – from Mr. Smythe. Apparently, Derrick had decided not to confront Blaine directly, but rather to try to sue him. In the ultimate show of being disconnected from his own son, he had chosen to ignore his son personally and go after him legally. Unfortunately for Derrick Anderson, Blaine had one of the best attorneys in town on his side. After Mr. Smythe spoke with the Anderson attorneys, pointing out that not only was there no requirement for Blaine to have identified himself, but also that Derrick had specifically initialed a section of the contract which indicated that the individual behind Warbler LLC wished to remain anonymous during the negotiations, the matter was dropped. Blaine never saw or heard from his father again.

And he was fine with that.

Finally free of his father's oversight, Blaine dove head-first into the business. Owning a hotel was a lot more work than just managing it, but he had good help and excellent advisors, along with a passion for the place that made all the difference. It wasn't easy, but it was what he'd always wanted. Speaking of what he'd always wanted, another aspect of his life had blossomed, as well.

After their rather unconventional start, Blaine and Kurt had decided to back things up a bit and have, as Kurt called it, a "proper courtship." Kurt returned to his apartment in Bushwick (albeit somewhat reluctantly and not without an unforgettable farewell from Blaine, the memories of which still made him blush). He returned also to his job with Isabelle, and began working in earnest toward finding a job more suited to his desires to be a designer. His work at Vogue over the past couple of years had not been in vain, as he had actually made a number of contacts in the fashion design industry without realizing it. He spent a couple of months really diving back into designing, working every spare moment to cultivate a portfolio that best displayed his talents and vision.

He started going on interviews, trying hard not to be disappointed when the first few didn't work out. It was a struggle, but this time, he didn't have to go through it alone. He could not have had a better support than his new boyfriend. Blaine, despite the fact that most people thought his job had been handed to him on a silver platter, was no stranger to hard work and dealing with disappointment. He had a lot of good insight into business matters, which he was able to translate into strategy ideas for Kurt in his job search. He also was, as he called himself, the "biggest Kurt Hummel fan in the world," and he was always ready with words of encouragement and strength when Kurt needed them.

About six months into Kurt's job search, it finally happened.

"Blaine! Blaine!" he screeched into the phone before Blaine could even so much as say "Hello."

"Kurt, honey, dial it down an octave, please," he said, laughing and holding the phone away from his ear a little.

"I got it! I got the job!" Kurt replied, a little less screechy, but still wildly excited.

Kurt had taken an interview with a small but well-respected fashion design house. The company had a reputation for picking out new designers and helping them launch their own careers. It was a perfect starting point for Kurt.

"That's fantastic, baby! I knew you could do it!" Blaine said, his own excitement building to match his boyfriend's.

"Oh, but that's not the only thing," Kurt said, speaking so rapidly that Blaine could hardly keep up with him. "They've got a showcase at Fashion Week in a few months for their newest designers. I get to design a piece and show it, Blaine!"

"OW!"

Blaine was drawn from his reverie about the past year by a loud yell from the other end of the apartment. "What now," he muttered to himself, walking in the direction of the noise.

Much to Kurt's delight, Blaine had taken one of the spare bedrooms and turned it into a design space for Kurt in order to help him work on his portfolio. The lighting was perfect, and if it meant that Kurt spent a little extra time in Blaine's apartment, well, that was just a bonus, wasn't it? The space had come in handy once again as Kurt worked on his design for the Fashion Week showcase event.

"Hold still!" Kurt snapped from his spot kneeling on the floor. Sebastian was standing on a low stool while Kurt worked on pinning up the hem of his trousers. Blaine lingered quietly in the doorway and crossed his arms in front of his chest, deciding to amuse himself by watching the show for a moment.

"Hurry up!" Sebastian retorted, sounding equally annoyed.

Kurt sat back on his heels and looked up. "You know, this isn't like your underwear fittings. I'm afraid there's a little more to it than stuffing a pair of socks down your shorts and sending you on your way."

Sebastian snorted. "Hey, princess, I never needed any socks. In fact, from where you are, I think you can see that for yourself. You actually look kind of good down there on your knees," he added in a lower tone, a playful light coming up in his eyes.

"Hey!" Blaine called out before he could even think about it. "I'm standing _right here_ ," he said, sounding properly offended as he crossed into the room.

Kurt glanced over at Blaine and smiled, then dropped his smile quickly as he glared up at Sebastian and rose back up on his knees. He held a large pair of shears up dangerously close to Sebastian's crotch. "You want to repeat that, Meerkat?"

Sebastian couldn't help himself and doubled over laughing. Blaine stepped up next to Kurt and put a possessive hand on his shoulder. "That's my man," he said, bending over and kissing Kurt when he turned his face upwards. "So how's it going?" he said in a sing-song voice.

"It's going great," Kurt said brightly, the exchange between him and Sebastian seeming to have never happened. This was their strange dynamic, and it worked.

"Seriously, Hummel, you've outdone yourself," Sebastian remarked, resuming his proper position for Kurt to complete the fitting of the suit he'd designed.

"Well, I can't thank you enough for agreeing to be my model, Bas. It'll be a real coup for me to have an actual Calvin Klein model wearing my design at my first show."

Kurt had originally asked Blaine to be his model, but Blaine had politely declined, suggesting Sebastian instead. Kurt had balked, but Blaine had ultimately convinced him that using a professional model was the best choice. Unbeknownst to Kurt, Sebastian had to do some negotiating to be able to help Kurt, as it was technically against his contract to model for anyone else. However, for his best friend and the man who had made that friend happier than he'd ever seen him, it wasn't too much to ask.

xoxoxo

The Fashion Week event came and went, and was a huge success. Kurt received rave reviews for his suit (which looked stunning on Sebastian, of course). Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine all attended the Vogue party that Isabelle hosted, and Kurt was thrilled to find out that the blogger who had taken his place was going to be doing a story on the newcomers' showcase, as well. "I happen to know he _loved_ your work, so expect a great review!" Isabelle stage-whispered behind her hand, drawing a laugh from the three men.

At the end of the evening, the three of them took a cab back to The Dalton, exhausted but in high spirits. They parted ways in the lobby, with Blaine and Kurt heading for the private penthouse elevator and Sebastian walking toward the public elevator. Blaine had offered Sebastian his usual guest room, but Sebastian declined. His specific words were, "There is no way in hell I am going to sleep in a room within earshot of yours." When Blaine went to argue, Sebastian held up a hand, adding, "That is a mistake I will make _only once_." Blaine held back a snort and Kurt blanched, realizing what Sebastian was implying.

Yes, maybe Seb having his own room at The Dalton was a good idea, after all.

When Kurt finally turned off the bathroom light and climbed into bed with Blaine, he snuggled up to his side. "Hi," Blaine said softly, reflexively wrapping an arm around Kurt and pulling him in just a little bit closer.

Kurt simply hummed in response and let out a contented sigh.

"Somebody's sleepy," Blaine said with a chuckle.

"'s been a looooong day," Kurt yawned. "Oh!" he groaned, turning his face to press his forehead into Blaine's bicep as he seemed to remember something.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Blaine asked.

"Ugh, I just realized I've got to drag _all_ of my stuff back to Bushwick tomorrow." Kurt had set up camp at Blaine's for Fashion Week, working on the suit for the show and doing some other work for the design house, once again taking advantage of the prime location of the apartment's proximity to the week's events.

Blaine paused and then said quietly, "You could leave it here."

Kurt pulled his head back to look at Blaine in confusion. "I can't leave it here, Blaine. I mean, aside from the things I used specifically for the suit, I've got half my design work and tools here and the other half at home. I can't work with my stuff in two places."

Blaine turned a little, still holding Kurt close. "Well, what if you brought the rest of your stuff here?"

Kurt opened his mouth to question Blaine, then shut it again as his eyes flew open wide. It dawned upon him what Blaine was saying.

"Blaine," he said cautiously, "Do you…are you…" he fumbled for his words as he shuffled around in the bed to face Blaine directly. "What exactly are you saying, Blaine?"

Blaine smiled indulgently and held up a finger, asking Kurt to give him a minute. He turned and opened the drawer of his nightstand, reaching for a small but distinctive blue box. He smiled, knowing that there was another similar box hidden away in the back of his sock drawer, but the time wasn't quite right for that one yet.

Not wanting Kurt to misunderstand for a second, he turned and held out the box, saying very clearly, "This is not a ring, Kurt."

Kurt laughed, saying, "Lord, I should hope not. You propose to me while I'm in your Dalton t-shirt with my hair a mess and I'll kill you."

Blaine huffed out a laugh and leaned forward to kiss Kurt lightly. "I love you so much," he said sweetly.

Kurt smiled, suddenly a little more serious as he answered back easily, "I love you, too."

"Kurt," Blaine began, pressing the box into Kurt's hands and covering them with his own, "stay with me. Don't leave. A year ago, you breezed into my life out of nowhere, and nothing has been the same since. You make every day better and brighter, and you make this place home to me in a way I never thought I would know. Having you here every day and every night has been so perfect this week. So stay. Live with me."

Kurt's eyes were bright with unshed tears. He bit his lip and gave Blaine a tiny, joyful nod, not trusting his voice. Blaine's face broke into an enormous smile as he leaned forward and captured Kurt's lips in an enthusiastic kiss. Blaine pulled back after only a few seconds, though, when he was reminded by their awkward positioning of the box that they held between them. "Open it," he said gleefully.

Kurt blinked away the happy tears and turned his attention to the box that he'd completely forgotten he was holding. He untied the white ribbon from the signature Tiffany blue box and opened the lid. Lying inside was a small silver key on a chain, the head of which was an open heart.

"I know that normally, someone gives you a key to their place, but there was something decidedly unromantic about giving you a plastic access card at a moment like this," Blaine explained shyly.

"I love it," Kurt whispered, looking up into Blaine's eyes and leaning forward to kiss him softly on the cheek. "Thank you." He sat back again and pulled the key and chain from the box. "Put it on me?" he asked, handing it over to Blaine and turning around.

Blaine carefully undid the clasp, brought the pendant around in front of Kurt and then fastened it securely, leaning forward and kissing the place where the clasp came to rest at the nape of Kurt's neck. He slid his arms around Kurt's waist and pulled him close, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder. "We're gonna be roomies," he murmured.

Kurt giggled. "Roomies," he repeated, turning his head to press a gentle kiss to Blaine's temple.

They sat quietly like that for a little while, allowing the peace and happiness of the moment wash over them. Eventually, they settled down and curled into each other's arms to sleep. Tomorrow would be the beginning of yet another chapter in their lives. As they drifted off, Blaine thought again of the other small Tiffany box he possessed. He smiled to himself, knowing that it wouldn't be too long before he would be presenting the ring inside to the man sleeping soundly in his embrace.

Maybe he'd even get to do it before Kurt gave him the ring he had hidden away in Bushwick.

 _A/N: That's it, kids. Hope it lived up to your expectations. The key pendant Blaine gives Kurt is from the Tiffany Keys collection, which you can find on the store's site. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little tale of mine. If it brought a moment's happiness or a smile to your day, I have done my job. Be well._


End file.
